The Lead Crown: Ch 2b, Outside Influence (pt 5)
Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 2-5, Outside Influence
"Cruffington." Friar Arlowe hailed his son from several steps away. He didn't wait to hear a response before continuing forward to sit down across the fire from him, "We need to talk."
Camp had been set for hours and it was getting rapidly darker, but he could still tell thanks to the glow from the fire that Cruff's gaze was vacant, "I'm not sure I have anything else to say." the young Raccoon Dog stated, his voice distant and disinterested.
The monk swallowed his hesitation and continued, undaunted, "Then I will talk and you can just listen."
"I'll believe it when I hear it." Cruff retorted, still gazing into the fire, "You haven't exactly been one to talk about important things lately."
"I was going to be a sweeper." Friar Arlowe announced.
"Huh?" the admission had caught his son's attention and the younger Raccoon Dog finally looked his way.
The monk smiled, "I was going to be a sweeper." he repeated, "The district commissioner had set up enough funds from the budget to afford two men to keep our neighborhood clean." he leaned forward and poked at the burning logs in the small campfire between them, "They even offered me the job..."
"When was this?" Cruff asked neutrally, head down, but eyes gazing up at him.
"Two days before the Church offered me a different position." Friar Arlowe rubbed the prayer beads between his fingers, holding the necklace gingerly, "I was actually more excited about being the sweeper." he chuckled softly, "Your mother--"
"You're going to say she pushed you into the Church?" his son questioned pointedly.
Friar Arlowe looked up, meeting Cruff's challenging gaze, and slowly shook his head, "No... she said she would support me no matter what I chose..."
"...and you chose the Church." the young Raccoon Dog finished for him.
"No." the monk shook his head again, "I chose to be a sweeper."
"Funny." his son stated flatly, "...you look more like a monk."
Friar Arlowe sighed and sat up a little straighter, "When I said that the Church chose me I meant it... and they were not very pleased with my answer." the monk put the beads away, "The next day the commissioner told me that the funds had to be used for other projects and he had to rescind the offer."
"Which made the Church's offer sound pretty good, is that it?" Cruff questioned.
The monk sighed helplessly, offering a shrug, "Perhaps if you're ever a father you might understand."
"Says the man who was a monk instead of a father." the young Raccoon Dog didn't pull any punches, but, then again, Friar Arlowe hadn't expected him to.
"I would have liked to." the monk offered. When Cruff didn't respond, the older Raccoon Dog continued, "Your mother is well?"
"She was fine when I visited last," Cruffington nodded, "...yea."
"She writes to you." the monk added, as much a question as a comment.
"More than my father ever did." the young Raccoon Dog pointed out.
"I know life for you was hard--" Friar Arlowe began, but Cruff cut him off.
"No you don't." he looked up, eyes locking into a seething gaze, "You have NO IDEA what it was like after you left!" his voice raised in volume, "Don't EVEN say you--" he paused, standing. Cruff glanced around at the gathered camp, all staring at him and he slowly sat back down, "... don't say you know it was hard... you don't know." he finished, much quieter.
Friar Arlowe nodded thoughtfully, "Then... tell me." It was a simple request, but he knew exactly what he was asking for. The monk was surprised when he received it.
Cruff spoke openly and evenly, narrating it as impersonally as if it weren't his own life. The callous, disconnected way in which he heard the events unfold were almost more painful than if his son had been throwing accusations at him the whole time. He found out that the stipend the Church promised never managed to materialize in full and the pittance his family had received ran out far too soon. He learned about Cruff having to start work from a young age, taking any job he could to help his mother make ends meet.
"I didn't know." Friar Arlowe offered softly as Cruff paused to take a drink from his water skin, obviously overcome for a moment by his emotions..
"I guess not." the young Raccoon Dog acknowledged, wiping at his muzzle before continuing, "Mom never stopped talking about everything you'd done for us, but all that time the only thing I could see was that my dad ran out on us and left us with nothing." he sighed, "At least now I know she wasn't as brain-addled from you leaving as I thought she was."
"Things weren't supposed to happen that way." Friar Arlowe announced, feeling the pain deep in his heart for just how horribly his family had been harmed by his decision, "You were supposed to have a good life."
His son looked back to him, gaze defiant once again, "I did."
There was silence between them for several long moments; the monk was just about to start counting the pops of the fire when he realized that the discussion wouldn't continue unless he pressed the matter, "You told Father Bryce during one of your sermon recitations that your mother helped you get into the University."
"She knew I was interested." Cruff acknowledged, "Mom saved most of what the Church gave her for the future... and I guess she figured the future was in the University."
The next question was hard for Friar Arlowe to ask, but he knew it would nag him until it was spoken, "Before or after she told you about where I'd gone?"
"The same time." his son answered, "She told me the money came from the Church, but, other than saying that's why you left, that was about it."
"The University AND the Church?" it was the next logical question for the older Raccoon Dog to ask.
"The University was for me." Cruff announced, "Mom was right... I guess I always wanted to understand more about the world, and UPU is helping me do that."
"The University tells us how--" Friar Arlowe stated.
"--and the Church tells us why." his son finished for him, "I guess I never really liked hearing only half of the answers." the Cruff shrugged.
"Even though you knew that's where I went?' the monk asked.
"Not everything in life revolves around you, Friar." the young Raccoon Dog challenged.
Friar Arlowe was taken aback by the comment but, in the end, he simply nodded, "This is true... I apologize for--"
"For being right?" his son's expression softened slightly as he looked back for the fire, "There were more questions..." he sighed, voice cracking faintly, "Questions that needed answers... even if I didn't think I'd ever find any."
Friar Arlowe fought back his own tears, "Usually men join the Church to have less specific questions answered."
Cruff shrugged, "I guess I'm just not 'most men' then."
"And now that you have your answers?" the older Raccoon Dog questioned, "Now what, Cruffington? Are you going to--"
"To stay with the Church?" his son asked, "The one that's running us down because I helped a heretic escape?" a faint, almost sorrowful smile spread across Cruff's muzzle, "Somehow I don't think that would be a healthy decision."
"I'm sorry I have made such a mess of your life..." the monk swallowed hard before adding the next word, "...son."
It took a few moments before Cruff responded, looking up to meet the older Raccoon Dog's gaze once more, eyes damp, but the smile still there, "I thought we already agreed that this isn't all about you, old man."
They shared a soft chuckle at that and, once more, a silence began to grow between them. The newest quiet was much more comfortable than any they'd shared, and yet Friar Arlowe wasn't quite ready for that rift to fully form. Standing up, the monk moved to sit down beside the younger Raccoon Dog, "For what it's worth, Cruffington... I'm proud of you."
His son coughed, and inconspicuously reached up a paw to wipe at his eyes, "Yea... I mean... thanks... I guess."
"It's true." Friar Arlowe announced, "You've done so much with so little... I'm proud of you, and I think you should be proud of you too."
"Well... I..." Cruff coughed again, clearing his throat as he regained as much fo a stoic expression as he could manage, obviously fighting with his emotions, "I'm proud of you too... Dad."
The title caught him off guard, and struck him as forcefully as a quarrel to the chest. It was impossible for him to wrap his mind around everything the word intailed, and so he settled for a much simpler question, "For what?"
"For speaking out." Cruff announced, "You stood up for what you believed in even after what the Church said... you were willing to do whatever it took to follow through with what you felt was right."
Friar Arlowe nodded at that, feeling a single tear escape him as he acknowledged what his son had to say, "I wish I'd done that twenty years ago."
The younger raccoon dog slowly stood, turned to face the monk, and spread his arms. Looking at his son, Friar Arlowe likewise stood; it was an obvious invitation, and not one that he could have possibly turned down. The embrace was everything-- it was shrugging off two decades of uncertainty; it was reaching a mutual understanding with his son, now a man who was capable of forgiveness; it was, most of all, closure.
They broke the hug only after the sound of a twig snapping off at the side of camp. Turning to regard the heralding noise, Friar Arlowe froze in place, seeing a handful of Hunters, Templars, and an Inquisitor. For the second time that night something struck him as forcefully as a quarrel to the chest: a quarrel to the chest.
Strangely, it didn't hurt, but, by that time, the raccoon dog realized in the back of his mind that he must have been in shock... but not too gone to clearly make out the words, "Capture whomever comes willingly... cleanse the rest."