Philippe of Morgarath

Episode Fourteen

The boat trip took much longer than Philippe had imagined. The subtle moving of the ship against the water's surface, had made Philippe nauseous from day one. The same happened to Reagon. They found immense support with each other, by hanging over the railing of the ship to throw up.

Merya and Davon on the other hand, seemed like they had no issues with the strange movements of the ship. They thought it was quite funny to look at Philippe and Reagon’s misery. Davon sometimes tried to help the two older men, by giving them some water. But there was not a lot of appreciation coming from them. Jealousness reared it’s ugly head and took all the space there was for gratefulness.

All Uhno did, was standing at the prow of the ship. Only moving for food, but it seemed like the man did not even need to sleep.

No matter how divided they were while aboard, the relief and happiness of reaching land, quickly brought everyone back together. The moment they reached the shore, Reagon dramatically fell down on hands and knees, kissing the floor. The other’s laughed at the big man, acting like a child.

The city where the Delelia family was living, had it’s own harbour. Which meant that the same evening the five arrived, they were already invited over for dinner at the castle. They were given rooms to sleep, water to wash, but the family itself did not show. When Philippe asked about them, the only answer he received was: ‘If the family wishes to see you, they will summon you.’

That’s how day after day passed them by. Much to Philippe’s personal frustration. He did not have the time for this, and he just did not understand why the Delelia’s held him in such low regard. You’d say that they would put in a bit more effort to greet him, Morwen’s youngest son. Even if it were just to congratulate him with his commitment to Llona.

On the morning of the seventh day, Phil was strolling the huge garden’s of the Delelia residence. It had come to his attention that even though the Delelia family only consisted of four, their house was huge. Way out of proportion. Even his own ancestral home was smaller, and that happened to be the old castle of the Kings of Morwerth.

He had been here for six full days, and he had walked for kilometres throughout the residence’s halls and basements, but he felt like there were still gardens he had not discovered, rooms he had not found. For some reason it even felt like there was a full floor that he had missed out on.

Philippe was thinking of the classes he had, back at home. Often he was asked to memorise the history of Morwerth’s richest and most proper houses. Most houses had a long, and old history. But that of the Delelia family was pretty short. They had a small island to guard, and because they kept pretty isolated and never really tried to connect to the other families, not much was known of them. Who they married was truly a mystery, because as far as Philippe knew, members of the Delelia family just appeared. News of marriages, or merges of houses, never came from this island.

The island of Puddlyon was one of the few that did not really partake in the trade market, that made the people of Morwerth rich and known.

It was strange to think that the family was poor, if you took a good look at their ancestral home. It was huge, the walls were thick and it even looked like some parts of the walls were decorated with gems and gold. Nothing seemed to show poverty. Either they were very arrogant, or the rumours were fake and wrong.

On a bench not very far away from him, sat someone. He had seen her more often, always on exactly that spot, and always in the same position. Cross-legged, and with a small papyrus booklet in her hand. It was bound together with small, improvised ropes. With a small piece of charcoal, she was drawing in the little book. With much focus, and concentration .

He walked towards her, for the first time since he found her there a couple of days ago.

‘Hey there’, he said friendly. Merya responded with a strange sound, but she kept on staring at the paper. Philippe looked over her shoulder and saw a beautiful drawing. She was drawing some flowers that were near the bench and her eye for detail was very impressive.

‘Wow’, he said, but she did not respond this time.

After a couple of minutes, Merya put down the piece of charcoal. She raised one eyebrow, and looked up at Phil.

‘What?’ she asked. It was obvious she was not amused.

Philippe shrugged. ‘Nothing’, he said. ‘I wanted to come and say hello.’

Merya shook her head. ‘i***t’, she said. She gestured to the piece of paper. ‘Don’t you see I’m busy with something?’

‘Yeah’, Philippe answered. ‘But you have been drawing for so long now, aren’t you in the mood for good conversation?’

Merya frowned. ‘When you find good conversation, make sure to point them this way, okay?’ she answered.

Philippe laughed, but when he noticed the look on her face did not change, he stopped abruptly. ‘You like being bored?’ he continued to annoy her.

‘Do I seem like the person that does something while they do not want to do it?’ She made a good point. He noticed her face relaxed, and a smile appeared, before she said: ‘Well, little prince, what did you want to talk about? Something bugging you?’

Instinctively Philippe raised both his hands with the palms forward, to show defeat. ‘Little prince?’ he just asked. She shrugged.

‘Well, your father is the king, isn’t he?’

Philippe shook his head. ‘No, he’s the regent.’ Merya shrugged for a second time. ‘You say potato, I say potah-to.’

‘Why do you say potah-to?' Philippe continued to bug her. She laughed, but did not answer.

He noticed the arrowhead in her hair, once again. He felt like her guard was down, and decided to ask her about it. ‘Why do you do that?’ he pointed at it.

When he saw the confusion on her face, he clarified. ‘The arrowhead.’

She nodded, showing that she now understood his question. ‘Oh this’, she grabbed the arrow and took it from her hair, making her long, dark locks of hair, fall over her shoulders. ‘This arrowhead’, she pointed it towards Philippe. ‘Is from the arrow I killed my first Muerthall with.’ She smiled proudly.

‘I see it as my lucky charm. Besides, it never hurts to have an extra weapon stashed on your body, if something happens and people forget to check my hair, I will have an extra little something to defend myself with.’ She bound her hair back together.

‘Is that an answer you can accept?’ she asked him. Her tone of voice, made Philippe believe there was more to the story than she lead on.

‘Wait’, he said. ‘Is it even the truth?’

Merya winked. He opened his mouth to continue asking, but then saw something move from afar. The girl spotted it too.

It was a lackey from the Delelia family. ‘The family wishes to see you now’, the man said, like the company had arrived just five minutes ago. ‘If you withdraw to your rooms, you will find some appropriate attire to wear, so you can decorate yourself for breakfast with the highly esteemed Delelia family.’ Merya coughed sarcastically, the lackey ignored her.

‘As long as I do not have to wear a skirt’, she said. ‘I’m fine with whatever.’