A flower blooming. (SPOILER WARNING!)

The third story about Artham and Esben living before the war.

Artham hefted his sword up again, taking a well-practiced stance. Esben did so as well, both of them sweating from the exertion. "You ready brother?" Esben asked, grinning widely.

"Of course!" And then they were at it again, their swords glinting and clanging in the midday sun. Artham considered letting Esben win but couldn't help it when he saw an opening in his brother's guard. He executed a perfect Moulinet and Esben's sword flew from his hand.

"Well done, Artham! And wonderful try honey." Nia said, coming up behind them, a two-year-old Janner toddled over to them while Nia held a newborn Kalmar in her arms. Esben came over to his children, all the pride of a father swelling within him.

"There is my king and Throne Warden! And my lovely queen." He kissed Nia on the cheek and lifted Kalmar out of her arms. Meanwhile Janner came up to his uncle, looking at the sword wide eyed. "Uncle!" he said, pulling on his pant leg and pointing at it. "Hello my young Throne Warden!" He said, kneeling down to pick him up. He held Janner and went to put the sword back, but Janner reached out his hands toward it. "Careful, this is no toy." Artham said with a chuckle. Then he had an idea.

"But maybe we can get you something like it." He mumbled.

The next day Artham walked down into the town. He adopted the stone faced look he always did. He never liked talking to people like his brother did. As the King that was his job anyways. His brother had a way about it. He was always at complete ease talking to the people. But Artham tensed up and tended to mumble what he was saying. So, he started to just look like he was busy anytime he was around people. Most avoided him, not wanting to get in the way of the Throne Warden. He remembered when his father used to try to introduce him to people of the court. When he was fifteen, they had tried to introduce him to the ladies of the court that were his age. He had disliked that the most.

He walked into the carpenters shop down the street. He stepped inside and was hit with the lovely smell of wood. "Hullo Sir Artham! Tis a surprise to see you in my humble shop! Is there anything I can do fer you?" "Not at the moment thank you." He said, looking at the items hung on the walls. He found a section covered in wooden swords. He picked up one nearly identical to his own sword. And a little later he walked out of the shop with the sword in his hands.

"Maybe we can start your training a little early Janner." He said to himself.

"Hello Artham." He heard a light voice say from behind him. He turned to see Arundelle.

"Miss Arundelle." He replied, bowing stiffly. Arundelle was one of Nia's good friends. She was normally at the castle, but Artham had not spoken to her much. "Are you getting that for young Janner?" She asked, falling in step behind him.

"I figure he could at least learn to hold a sword." "As long as you don't let him hold the real ones, Nia would have a fit." She said smiling.

"Indeed, she would. He loves to watch me and Esben fight in the courtyard. I figured he would enjoy something like this."

"I'm sure he will, I need to get going. I have a mountain of research to do, and some poems that are on a deadline." She ducked her head and walked off. Artham watched her walk away, then shook his head shrugging, and continued up to the castle.

"Janner?" He whispered the next morning. His nephew was already awake and had been sitting in bed with a picture book for the past twenty minutes. Janner looked and smiled widely when he saw his uncle, he crawled out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping baby brother. Artham led him out to the courtyard and pulled from behind his back the wooden sword, the perfect size for his nephew. Janner's smile grew bigger until it touched his eyes. "Is dat for me Uncle Arfum?" He asked in his adorable little voice.

"Yes, it is, here, let me show you how to hold it." Nearly the whole morning Artham showed his nephew how to hold it correctly. And nearly every day after that Janner joined him. Artham normally trained with the castle guard every morning, and Janner always followed him down to the courtyard and watched, practicing and playing with his own sword. Then he would go back up to him and his brother's room and quietly tell him all that he had learned. Artham loved his two nephews so much. But soon rumors were spreading that something was coming from the castle Throg in the Killridge mountains. The unease Artham had felt for a few years now steadily got worse. But he pushed it aside, trying hard to enjoy the best year or two of his life. He felt complete and happy. And now with a song maiden on the way. He all but forgot about the rumors he had heard. Almost.

(This is when Janner and his family make to Anniera just before the ending of the book.)

Janner walked across the barren isle of his home. He had ventured off to look at where the castle Rysen once stood. A deep heaviness had settled into his heart, he knew that this war was not yet over. Stone walls stained with flames and char could still be seen. He walked through where the gate would have hung. He saw an open space where the courtyard had most probably been. He walked towards it, but something caught his eye. Amidst all the ash and smoke, all the charred grass and burnt trees. A small wooden sword sat, somehow untouched. It looked worn, but the fire had not even licked it. He crouched down to look at it closer. Somehow it felt familiar, as if he had seen it before in a dream. He closed his eyes. A dream full of laughter and joy, of child-like hope and wonder. A dream where this castle still stood, and a strong person protected it. Someone he had looked up to with all his heart. He opened his eyes as a tear slid down his cheek. He lifted it up, and beneath it a single flower had somehow bloomed.