Book I: Chapter 1

Aarden’s eyes flew open. Disoriented from the dream, Aarden quickly looked around. He was back in his garden. His nostrils were once again accosted with the dark earth, his vegetables almost ready to be harvested. He slowly got up, found his awkward straw hat.
“Spot, Spot!” Aarden called out. His pet Ingot bound over to him, carrying a crow in his clawed front paw. Ingots were small, human-like creatures. They stand hunched over, but even standing straight would only reach four feet. Their hair was thin, making them look bald. They were biped creatures who could also walk on all fours. They’re hands had retractable claws and they’re hind legs were short, almost ape-like. The Durvies had domesticated them. Spot followed Aarden as they wandered from the garden onto the main road.
The dream was a recurring one: Aarden drinking from a crystal river flowing over an old stone wall. He cups the water in his hand when a stream of blood starts tainting it. Fear grips his heart and he starts to panic, then wakes up, sweaty. This time, he woke himself up before the blood came. He always gloated when he outsmarted his dreams.
Most people who met Aarden considered him a commoner. The tall and lanky albino was the son of the powerful noble woman Genish Tallate. His father had died of a heart attack when he was a boy. Genish allowed her son his eccentricities which mainly focused on his love of gardening.
Aarden’s clothes were mainly dirty, simple and useful. He usually wore a loose cotton shirt filled with pockets. The pockets he filled with small plants and seeds, things to fill his garden. He usually wore a light green burlap poncho and this straw hat perched on the top of his thin face.
Aarden was greeted with smiles and waves as he wandered down the main street of the Durvy town of Distrus. The sunlight beamed down on him as a cold breeze brushed his straw blond hair away from his face.
“Beautiful day isn’t it,” Pagel, the town’s blacksmith chirped at Aarden as he passed him. “The sun is really shining today.”
Aarden glanced up at the bright brown sky and smiled. “Perfect for planting those rhododendrons you gave me.”
“Every day is a perfect day for something young man.” The blacksmith waved and turned into his shop. Aarden waved back and continued on his way.
Aarden wandered into his mother’s manor. The servants looked up and smiled at the young master and he waved back. He stepped into the main house, brushing the dirt off in the doorway as he removed his poncho and folded it carefully. His mother emerged from her grand bedroom and quickly ran down to her son.
“Aarden, where have you been? You know how important tonight is to me.” His mother was in a panic once again.
“I’m sorry mother, I fell asleep.”
“In that garden again. Why I allow you to have that cursed thing is beyond me.”
“My father gave that garden to me.”
Genish gently touched the poncho and smiled, then hid the smile and turned once more on her son. “Your father! He always wanted to be a peasant. The Gods alone know where he spent all of our money. If I hadn’t kept my inheritance from my parents, I would be begging for food and you would be gardening for someone else.”
“Father didn’t leave us broke and you know it.” Aarden’s voice never raised to his mother. He had had this argument many times before. “Besides, Father never spent any money on himself.”
“Yes, I know. He should be made holy.”
Genish pulled the straw hat from Aarden’s head and threw it into a pile with his poncho.
“Mother-.”
“Aarden, no more talk of your father. I know you loved him as you love me. And if you do love me, you will get ready. I have invited the four noble families from Lacertus to dinner tonight. All of them have eligible daughters for you to court.”
“Mother, why do you insist on doing this to me?”
“Because that’s what young men your age do.”
“I’m different than them.” Aarden snuck into the kitchen and snatched a couple of rolls, his mother following him all the way.
“You should not be ashamed of being an albino.”
The cook, hearing the mistress’s voice, swung around. She saw Aarden and smirked, then gave him a mock glare. Aarden gave the servant an apologetic shrug and stuffed a piece into his mouth. He dropped the second roll to Spot.
“It’s not my skin, although I see the girls cringe when they see me.”
“Stop talking with your mouth full, and I told you to keep your pet outside.”
“He will be quiet in my room.” Aarden finished swallowing and moved towards his room. “I’m just different. All they can talk about is gossip; who is marrying whom, what she wore, what she said. The military seems to be just honorary. What good is it if they receive rank simply to improve status in the community? Even common soldiers are there simply to impress their benefactors.”
Aarden found a wash basin already filled with water. He began rinsing his face.
“What would you prefer? I’m thankful that we enjoy peace and my son doesn’t have to go off to be killed in war. We are truly blessed. And what topic would you prefer; your garden, the dirt you lay in?”
“Politics, life, art, the Gods-.”
“Oh, the Gods take you; you will drive me to an early grave.”
She threw a towel at him. He dried his face slowly.
“I’m sorry mother. I will be civil.”
“I assume Vale will be joining us as well?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Why you hang around with that orphan-.”
“I’m sorry mother, I need to get ready.”
He gently pushed his mother out of the room and closed the door, finally free of his mother’s questions. A bath was waiting for him and his gaudy, ceremonial clothing was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. He sighed deeply and sat on his father’s old chair.
After his father’s death, Aarden’s mother had become more interested in her son’s future. This was the fifth dinner party she had thrown, inviting the most prominent families from the five major cities of Durvy. Even Prime Minister Tomal’s daughter Gwen had come to meet Lady Genish’s albino son, but the results were always the same, women without substance. Likewise, they found Aarden a simpleton. It was only because of his mother’s name and reputation that they came.
Aarden pulled a flower, still in soil, from his pocket. He pulled a small pot full of dirt from under his bed and planted the flower in it. He set the pot on a window sill and began undressing. Steam rose from the drawn bath and Aarden cringed as he stepped into it. The water was nearly boiling and every dry crack in his hands and feet burned. He would be sufficiently pink for his mother’s dinner.