In Which Severin Greets a Third Searle

October 25, 1162

"Uncle, can you tell him to stop?" groaned ten-year-old Searle as the five-year-old of the same name happily bounced on the couch, just beside where he sat.

The younger boy giggled at his cousin's annoyance. "Why don't you just join me? You know you want to!"

"I do not," he replied gruffly, as though trying to make his voice sound lower than it actually was. "I'm too old to be jumping on couches."

"My grandpapa jumps on couches, and he's a lot older than you."

"Your grandpapa jumps on a lot of things."

Chuckling silently to himself, Severin shook his head. "There are two couches in this room, you do realize; one of you could move to the other one."

"But this one is more comfortable," argued the older Searle.

"And bouncier!" added the younger.

"Is that so?" Severin demanded of the pair of them, surveying his nephew through narrowed eyes. "Well, in that case, I suppose there's only one way to settle this; who was here first?"

"I was," declared both Searles simultaneously.

This was hopeless. "I thought so--damn it, Searle!"

"Sorry," the two apologized hastily.

His nephew smiled. "It bothers you that both our mothers felt the need to name a son after our grandfather, doesn't it?"

"Only between the hours of noon and noon the next day," agreed Severin. "I should be thankful that none of your other cousins of that name are here--albeit, I suppose I would be better off with all five of you than with only your grandfather."

"Why's that?" asked his young son as he continued to bounce about on his corner of the couch. "Is he so Searley that he's Searlier than all of us other Searles combined?"

"Oh, it has nothing to do with Searliness," he assured the boy, "it's just that he's my father-in-law. Now, remind me--what is the function of an in-law?"

"To torture you!"

"That's my boy!"

The older Searle glared. "I'm one of your in-laws, you do realize."

"Indeed you are," confirmed Severin, "and you've had to work very hard to win your way into my good graces; of course, you're going to have to work even harder to stay there."

Searle opened his mouth to reply, but before he could begin, he was cut off by the entrance of Falidor from the front room.

"Sorry to interrupt you, my lord," the steward announced himself from the doorway, "but you have a visitor."

"It's not my father-in-law, is it?" Severin demanded with a smirk, mainly for the sake of his son's laughter.

Falidor shook his head. "No, but you are right in assuming that it is, in fact, a Searle."

"Damn," he swore as the two boys behind him exchanged a devious grin. "Why can't anyone understand that I already have a surplus of Searles?"

The younger man shrugged. "My guess is that the world has a surplus of Searles, and the Lord has deemed you the best man for the job of dealing with that."

"And what unpardonable sin did I commit in order to get stuck with that unfortunate task?"

"I suppose we won't know until Judgment Day."

"Indeed," muttered Severin conclusively. "Now, since both Alina's Searle and Renata's Searle are accounted for, and neither Meraleene's Searle nor Laralita's Searle is old enough to travel all this way on his own, am I right in assuming that this is Cladelia's Searle?"

Falidor nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Well, at the very least, he might get some insight as to exactly what Haldred was doing with all the frantic marriages of his children of late. "Very well. Send him in."

"Ha!" yapped Severin's son from the couch. "Now you have three Searles!"

"Not a day goes by when I don't regret allowing your mother to name you that," he declared. "I've half a mind to start calling you Grendel."

The older Searle beamed wickedly. "Then what does that make Aunt Alina?"

"Keep that up and it might make you homeless."

Once again, the boy's response was interrupted by the opening of the door.

Severin had not seen Haldred's son Searle since Lileina's wedding. He had been Cambrin's page at the time, a mere boy of not quite ten; now, he was a knight, a young man of fifteen, and nearly as tall as Severin himself. Unfortunately, it appeared that he had not only grown in age and size and rank, but in melancholy as well. A distinct sorrow lingered in his teal eyes, leaking from their depths and casting dark shadows around them, making the boy appear much more frail and sickly than he actually was. His pouty mouth only added to his mask of sadness, as did his resigned gait; someone had taken Alina's nephew by the very soul and torn him apart, the pieces strewn about in such disarray that it seemed unlikely that anyone could ever hope to fix him.

"Uncle Severin," he mumbled. The young man then peered over Severin's shoulder to his cousins, one of whom he already knew and one of whom he did not. "Searle," he addressed Arkon and Renata's son.

"Searle," the younger boy replied. In turn, he nodded toward Severin's son, intent on introducing him. "Searle."

"Searle," Severin's son acknowledged his visiting cousin.

The newcomer nodded. "Searle."

Severin rolled his eyes. "I do hope you can remember all that."

"I'll manage," Searle promised dully.

"Good. Now, not that I'm not pleased to see you, Searle," he greeted the boy, though it seemed the youth did not particularly care as to whether or not he was pleased, or anything else for that matter, "but I must admit that I'm rather surprised."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't mean to be presumptuous."

The poor child; had it somehow become his first instinct to blame himself at any opportunity? "You aren't being presumptuous. I just want to know why you're here. Is everything all right back home?"

"I don't know," answered Searle. As he spoke, Severin caught a brief glimpse of gold upon his finger; sure enough, despite his young age, he had already married. What had his father been thinking? "Things are all right, I suppose. Not great, but not terrible."

Severin wasn't entirely convinced. "Searle, I don't think you believe yourself when you say that things aren't terrible. You look like a man who's seen enough of the terrible to last him a lifetime. Is your father all right?"

The young man nodded. "He's fine."

"Your mother?"

"Also fine."

"Your wife?"

Searle blinked. "Please don't talk about my... my... her," he choked at last.

He spoke of his wife as though he could not accept the fact that she was now his--or that he was now hers. Severin couldn't honestly understand it; he could not claim to know Danthia Tamrion particularly well, but she had always seemed to be an agreeable enough young lady. Perhaps he had simply made an error in judgment; nevertheless, he complied to the boy's request. "Fair enough."

"Uncle," Searle addressed him yet again, "do you mind if I... stay here for a while? You and Aunt Alina are the only ones I can ask."

This was it? He had come simply to escape his own problems? It seemed a fool's path--then again, his young nephew had not yet lived long enough to realize that one's demons could never truly be shed.

"You have duties to Dovia as a knight, Searle," Severin reminded him.

The boy's eyes fell to the wooden floor, as though it was suddenly the most inviting presence in the room. "I know."

"How long are we talking about? A week or so?"

"Well... maybe a little longer," admitted Searle, his eyes wide and his thick bottom lip protruding; he looked as though he could burst into tears any second. "I'm sorry..."

Severin shook his head. "Don't be."

Searle nodded, his teal glance landing on the floorboards once more. Then, he muttered, his voice only barely audible, "I just need a place to stay."

He would be cruel to refuse, Severin realized. This was an unfortunate, frightened child who had been forced to become a man long before he was ready. He knew neither how to be a knight nor how to be a husband--and it seemed that Haldred had forgotten how to be a father.

"You may stay as long as you like," he offered, "but I hope that you've considered the fact that neither of your parents are particularly fond of me; they may be rather angered by your choice of host."

The guest sniffed; Severin guessed that this would be the closest the boy came to laughing for quite some time. "Uncle, let me reassure you right now--my parents could not possibly have a lower opinion of me if I was staying with the devil himself."

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