NEXUS: King of Warkinles

Chapter 1

The spring air was warm as Nexus broke the earth, tilling up reluctant soil. He'd only done a few rows, but sweat already trickled down his brow and back. A playful breeze and merciful clouds helped shield him from the unrelenting heat.

"Nasin must be in a bad mood today," he said to himself as he dug up the dirt. His body acted without thought, bringing the hoe down again and again.

The gardens had to be ready for spring planting as wheat alone wouldn't provide for his small family. His thoughts then drifted over to the subject of his father, who was out in the fields, taking care of the livestock. It was a chore he was grateful to avoid; the fields reeked, and he was certain the donkeys had a vendetta against him.

More soil scattered in the wake of Nexus' hoe. After a time, he straightened his aching back and wiped the sweat from his brow, dragging his gaze around the property. The gardens were a short ways west from the humble abode that housed the Strait men. The barn stood farther back in the east, a sturdy structure with corrals and pens branching off it. A chicken coop clung to the side of the barn like a growth.

And farther back still were lush hills, vibrant green with growing grass, and the churned fields meant for wheat. From the gardens Nile could just about see his father tending to their sheep, guiding them into their pastures to do as flocks do. From afar, he looked like the young, strong man he still believed himself to be. But his son knew otherwise.

That's why Nexus was out here, as his father had told him this morning. He was to learn how to work his own land, plant his own seeds. A hard task, but necessary. Still, if given half the chance, he'd much rather leave the fields to fallow, free to go where the wind took him as his father did years and years before.

Nexus left his musings to the wind and returned to work, but even that short rest was enough to leave his body aching in protest. He regretted ever stopping, but it was too late now. Besides, the more he worked, the duller the ache became. Halfway through, his father joined him to survey his son's progress. At first, his face was impassive. Then it broke into a smile.

"You've done fine work, Nexus," Arago said, his voice hoarse from shouting at the flock. "These rows are pretty as a picture."

Nexus beamed at his praise, breathing hard from the work. "Do you think we'll have a good harvest this year, Father?" he asked.

Arago chewed on the question in silence. His large hand went through a head of hoary hair before stroking a beard of the same hue.

"I've yet to try reading the signs, and there's been no word from Father Tiago." He spat at the mention of the priest's name in disgust before continuing, "But honestly, I believe this year will be fine. Veshna, may the Green Lady be praised, has always blessed. I see no reason it'll be different now."

The goddess's name reminded them both that the offerings haven't been given yet. Arago gave his son a sly look.

"Why don't you give the offering this time, on your own? A man must worship his own gods and work his own soil after all."

Nexus didn't know how to react. To give the offerings was a great honor, especially for the first time alone. And he'd always jump at a chance to take a break from work. However, the possibility of messing up such a vital task worried him. What if Veshna grew angry? What if she cursed their land for an honest mistake?

"A-Are you sure, Father?" Nexus asked. "I mean, who will prepare the garden then?"

"I may be old, but I can still work." Arago clapped Nexus' back. "Go on, son. You'll be all right."

Nodding his head, Nexus gave Arago the plow, and made his way from the half-finished garden to their altar.

**

Churches, temples, and cathedrals were the main places of worship in Santara, but every home had its own altar or shrine. Some were beautiful masterpieces of precious metals and gems while others were crude constructs made by a farmer's bare hands. The Warkinlesians wasn't picky about craftsmanship; just having one was enough. As long as it wasn't shabby on purpose that is.

The Strait family had a shrine dedicated to Veshna as did every home in Bailnor. Her grace was crucial to keeping the village alive. Without it, crops would wilt, families would starve, and many souls would go to Devasnus. However, she had competition. The seasonal goddesses were also present in the Strait home: Zenia ensured an early spring, and Nayuma a gentle summer; Thela provided a bountiful harvest, and Malayka kept her grief to herself, thus keeping winter mild.

Today, Nexus decided to give the offering to Veshna. Zenia had done her part, and his father could always pay respect to Nayuma in the evening. She was a secret favorite of Arago's, as summer was his late wife Zachi's favorite season.

His brow furrowed at the thought of his mother, a dull ache twisting around in his gut. It'd been over ten years since her death, but the pain never left. Nexus doubted it ever would.

Along with the ache of grief came another feeling too. What that was, though, he wasn't sure. It was... something inside him, great and mighty. But he never spoke of it as Zachi had asked him not to.

"I love your father very much," she'd told him one night, when he was small, "but you know how he can be with magic. He wouldn't understand."

Without his mother to guide him, Nexus believed he'd never understand, either.

Those dark thoughts vanished as he entered the small house to their altar. It was little more than a sectioned off corner of the sitting room, bordered by a crude screen of planks of wood. It wasn't elegant, or stylish, but it served its purpose well. Beyond the screen was a forest of candles, with six silver idols standing tall above them.

At a distance, they all appeared to be the same female form. But a closer inspection would reveal masterfully crafted details, down to their dresses and layers of hair. The seasonal goddesses flanked the left and right sides, with Veshna standing in the center. The idols cost a small fortune, most of what little savings they had and more besides. Yet to keep the gods' favor, it was worth it.

Nexus opened the barrier and lit the candles around Veshna. There wasn't much for the offering as winter left their stores bare. But Arago always kept some in reserve: the freshest grains of wheat, the brightest apple, the most seasoned pork. The gods didn't care what people offered, so long as it was the best. What truly mattered was worship itself.

He placed a few eggs, some wheat, and an apple that survived the winter in front of the altar, then sunk to his knees and prayed.

"May you always bless our fields, Veshan, the Loving, Veshna the kind," Nexus chanted. It was tempting to allow the words to flow without thought, but he made sure each words was sincere. "May the Green Lady always be loved and cherished. Your love is our love, your happiness, our happiness. You we cannot live without. You, Veshna, we need."

Prayers came in a variety of forms, from epic ballads to a few soft words. The Strait family kept it short, sweet, and to the point. After the prayer, Nexus was to sit in silence. A contemplative silence, said Father Tiago so the gods' will may be heard and done.

And for several long moments, Nexus held his breath as a charge entered the room. It held weight like a person's presence, but there was no one there. It mulled over him, the prayer, and the offering, like a cat deciding whether to spare the bird it caught or kill it. Thankfully, it seemed satisfied with Nexus' devotion, for it left, as indifferent as when it came. Always indifferent, never saying or doing anything of worth. Eventually, he rose, blowing out the candles with a small puff.

He then left in that same silence and closed off the altar. No matter what that strange phenomena was, there were other matters to attend to. Despite his assurances, Arago couldn't plow the gardens by himself.

**

Father and son completed the plowing far quicker than they could have on their own. Sweat still ran, muscles still ached, but it was done.

"A fine sight," Arago half panted next to his son. And it was... if you were into that sort of thing. "I couldn't have done it without you, Nexus. Thank you."

"It was nothing. Nothing we couldn't handle," Nexus boasted, puffing himself up.

The pain from doing so made him grimace, which spoiled the effect. Arago barked a laugh which caused him to groan, and that made Nexus laugh, who then groaned himself. Soon they were both laughing and groaning at each other.

"A father couldn't ask for a finer son," Arago said once he caught his breath. "Tell you what. Why don't you go run off and explore some? I know you love doing that."

Nexus' eyes grew wide, and he nodded in delight. With a smile and nod of his head, Arago sent his son off into the hills and thickets surrounding his home.

As he watched his son wander off, Arago leaned against his hoe and stroked his beard, lost in thought. Nexus was almost a man; no, he was a man, and had been for over six years now, since his thirteenth year. Still, he kept him close, teaching him everything he knew about his trade, about life.

If there was one thing he wished he hadn't given Nexus, it was the insatiable wanderlust he himself had at that age. When Nexus was small, Arago loved telling him tales of his travels, as any father would with their children. He intended them to be bedtime stories, nothing more, something to preoccupy a child's dreams until he aged enough to put them behind.

But Nexus never did. And this wouldn't be a problem, if Nexus were truly the adventuring sort. Arago sighed as he considered his son's goodhearted, but ultimately soft nature. He'd never left Bailnor in his life. He still got nightmares from stories of creatures from the Forest of Tudar, just within the town's shadow. And Arago feared that, if he did really try to go off on some adventure, he'd return in a casket, or not at all.

He wasn't the best father, he knew, but he hoped he'd raised him right.

"Let it be enough, Razona," Arago said to himself, invoking the goddess of families. With no one around to see, he let his age show, and stood as a monument to the vigilance of fatherhood.