The Boniface Brothers

The Boniface Brothers
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Firo was full of smiles once he skipped into the small house inches away from the pier, accompanied by the young fisherman holding a bucket. He had accomplished so much in the little of time he spent with the young man. With only minimum knowledge about fishing— and a lot of luck, he managed to somehow reel in two small sized tuna.

"Lady Luck must really love you!" The young fisher was still full of awe by the time he sat the bucket on the countertop in what could be seen as a kitchen.

Firo's eyes danced about the room; examining everything as quickly as he could. It seemed like the house looked smaller than it did on the outside. The living room space blended with the kitchen to the point that it was almost identical. Cabinets ran across the walls with a large fridge, stove, and sink off to the side. In the center of the room was a large rectangular counter where the bucket now sat. Every shelf was covered with granite tiling even the center counter. Stairs on the opposite corner from the fridge led upstairs to the second floor. The only oddity in the room was a beat up couch leaning up against the large counter.

"This is a very nice place you have here..." His voice trailed off, eyes fixated on the beat up couch that now looked like it would fall apart if the large counter was gone.

The man laughed, "When I was younger, this use to be my father's workshop." He moved over to one of the cabinets, "This place was always crowded, people lining up from all over to buy exotic fish. My father use to collect fish from all over the continent." He pulled out a few plates and utensils and then moved back over to the counter, dropping them on the table with an accomplished sigh.

Firo watched silently while he continued to decide whether he should sit or stand. His eyes soon wandered over the items that the fisherman decided to place on the table. It wasn't long before he was staring at a rather rusty butter knife sitting near the man. "I just realized something. Out of my excitement, we never exchanged names..." He trailed off, glancing up towards the man.

The fisherman laughed again, "Now that I think about it, you are correct." He blushed, "Look at me, letting strangers into my home."

Firo nervously laughed.

"The name is Piers... Piers Boniface and it's a pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out, that welcoming smile pulling Firo in once more.

"You can call me Firo." A grin appeared over his face while he eagerly reached across the counter and shook Piers' hand.

"Now that the formalities are out of the way…" Piers reached into the bucket and grabbed hold of one of the tuna. He slammed it onto the table with an excited expression on his face, "Let's gut some fish!"

Firo gave off a confused look, "Wait... what?"

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Wardell had forgotten the warm feeling that was associated from communicating with others. Other than Firo, there weren't many people whom managed to get much out of him let alone stay around him long enough without getting scared. He moved about, picking up the random items scattered around the boy. He would examine the some of the objects closely, making sure they were not broken before moving back over to the boy.

"Thanks… you don't have to help me." The boy remained seated on the ground, his eyes staring at a small orange skull cap on the ground. "I am a big boy."

Assuming the boy would use the orange cap as some kind of bag; Wardell silently placed the objects into a pile on top of it and started to pull on the fabric.

The boy whimpered and yanked the hat from underneath, causing the pile to topple over. He played with the fabric between his fingers while he bit down on his bottom lip. "Papa gave me this as a gift. Me and my brother have one…" He sighed, "Well, I have mine. My brother lost his… I think he threw it away."

"Does your father know you are out here?" Wardell tried to speak in a stern voice, but couldn't help softening up his tone. Each time he flanked at the boy, he became more concerned about Firo. He had been gone for a while now.

The boy sighed, his eyes following the blue stitching inside of the cap until his found his name. "I wish… Papa died a year ago." He let his head lean back as he glanced up towards the sky—the clouds were slowly moving east.

Wardell took a seat back on the grass, "My condolences."

"It's alright. I am a big boy, death happens."

Wardell's eyes drifted around the boy until he was looking at the skull cap. "If you are a "big boy" then why are you running away? That sounds childish."

The boy gritted his teeth, "It's my big brother. Lately he has been so pushy! He wants me to follow him and be a stupid fisherman." The sheer thought of his big brother made the boy throw the cap out of anger. "I don't wanna be like papa or him!" He tried to resist from crying.

The skull cap landed near Wardell and with a simple adjustment of his body, he was holding the cap and examining the unique stitching. Already the squire was convinced that the boy's father had made the cap himself.

Wardell sighed and cleared his throat while he struggled to speak, "My… my family use to be farmers." He went silent before continuing on, "I remember my father yelling at me every day when he caught me with a makeshift sword in my hands." He chuckled, "I got my ass handed to me on numerous occasions especially when I would decapitate the scarecrows in the fields. I swear the crows cheered for me…"

The boy snickered at the thought.

"I wanted to become a knight of Lussa. It was the Kingdom I grew up in. My old man was always furious with me when I made mention of my dreams." Wardell pointed a finger at the boy while he imitated his father using a raspy voice, "No dinner for a week!"

Laughter escaped from the boy while he nodded.

Underneath his mask, Wardell frowned, his tone remaining pleasant. "I am sure they were heartbroken when I left. It's been so many years and I can't imagine what they are thinking…" He trailed off, as thoughts of his knighting ceremony flooded his mind.

"So, you are a Knight, mister?"

Wardell shook his head in disappointment, "No, I am still a squire in training." He stood up, changing the topic in the process. "You said you didn't want to become a fisher. Then what do you want to be?" When he saw the boy was about to speak, he quickly cut him off and continued, "By the way, it's Wardell. Please don't call me mister I am far too young for formal titles."

The boy smiled, "How do I know you aren't some old guy? I can't tell with your face all covered up."

Once the boy finished his laughter, he started to scan the ground. Once he found a broken tree branch, he moved over to Wardell and knelt in front of him. The boy inhaled slowly, closing his eyes while his hands hovered above the branch. His hands started to glow white and the sound of the branch bending a reforming bounced off the trees.

After a few seconds had gone by, the boy stopped and started to pant. He wiped a few drops of sweat from his brow and looked up at Wardell with an accomplished smile, "My name is Cotton and I want to be a cleric."

Amazed, Wardell looked down at the branch to discover that it was no longer broken.

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An uneasy chuckle escaped from Firo while he allowed the rusty butter knife to loosely dangle from his hand. "Let me get this straight," He pointed the rusty knife towards the lifeless fish on the countertop, "You want me to cut this and then…" he trailed off as the thought of ripping open the fish ran through his mind. The rusty butter knife fell from his hand and back towards the counter.

Piers gave off a warm smile, "How else are we going to eat it?"

Firo shrugged, "I kind of thought we would just catch them and then…" he trailed off again, but this time into a whisper. "You'd do the gross stuff."

Piers slammed his hand on the counter, startling Firo in the process. It was obvious that he had heard the boy trying to whisper. He reached for the knife and proceeded to gracefully chop off the fins and head of the fish, "You can't go through life assuming everyone is going to help you. Eventually you are going to have to grow up and help yourself… better yet, some else." He took a cloth and wiped off the butter knife before continuing to remove unnecessary parts of the fish.

Firo frowned but nodded in acceptance, "I understand. I guess I have always relied on others for everything."

Piers stopped and looked up from his cutting towards Firo, "Oh, wow…" There was a shocked expression on his face.

"What?"

"S-sorry, it's just that I thought you were my brother for a moment. He never agrees with anything I say so, to hear you back me up came as a surprise." Embarrassed, Piers chuckled.

Firo gave a concerned look, "Aren't you the oldest? Aren't siblings supposed to respect their older brothers and sisters?"

Piers anxiously twiddled with the butter knife. "It's complicated…" He shook his head, "Our father passed away some time ago. I had to grow up and take control of everything." He sighed, placing the knife back on the counter before moving over to the couch.

Since Firo was already sitting on the countertop and using the couch as a footrest, he twisted his frame around. His eyes glanced back at the knife before he focused his attention on Piers.

"My whole life changed, Firo. I am not sure if it was for the better, but I didn't have a choice." Piers turned his attention towards the window by the stairs. "My brother follows silly dreams. Always wanting to save the world while ignoring the responsibilities he has right here." He laughed, "When I chose to not accept his fairytales, he lashed out at me like I am the villain. He does this every time."

Firo frowned, "Maybe you are being too hard on him." He moved his frame down so that he was sitting next to Piers. "Ever thought about putting your trust in him?"

Piers remained silent.

Firo smiled and decided to stand up and move back over to the counter. He picked up the butter knife and shook his head, letting out an anxious chuckle. "Heh, do you think we could go catch a few more fish before the sun goes down?"

"I guess we can, why?" Piers turned his attention to Firo, his eyes staring at the knife in his hand.

"Well... I think your knife is a little rusty…" Firo trailed off, his eyes now looking down at the fish that was cut into small pieces. "I can't imagine eating this fish would be healthy."

Piers broke out into laughter, "Cotton has been asking me to get new utensils since last month. No wonder he is never hungry." He stood up and slowly started to gather the presumably harmful tuna from the counter. "A little rust won't hurt you, though. I've been using this butter knife for everything." He smirked.

Firo gave him a worried look, "You look thirsty, let's split a glass of water before we go."