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“Do you think my boyfriend will bring me roses today?”
A familiar confident voice replied, “I hope so! Today’s a special day, after all!”
“Dozen Roses Day,” the first girl sighed, resting her cheek on her hand and losing herself in a romantic daydream. She shook herself out of it and let out a far less happy, far more exhausted sigh. “Well, I better get back to work for now. Here’s hoping they’ll be waiting for me at home.”
Alphen couldn’t help his curiosity. He was supposed to be shopping for dinner ideas, but what he’d overheard had intrigued him. The second girl felt his stare and looked at him, then grinned widely and waved, “Hey there, Alphen! Did you hear that?”
“I heard some of it. What’s this ‘special day’ you mentioned, Lagill? Some kind of holiday?”
She grinned, stepping closer and nudging him with her elbow. “It’s Dozen Roses Day. They say if you give your lover a dozen roses on this day, you’ll be happy together forever.”
He flushed, looking down at his hands, at his basket that had some ingredients for dinner, but no roses at all. “Ah. Say, you don’t think, Shionne knows about it, do you…?”
“It’s a Renan tradition, so probably,” Lagill smirked, watching the anxiety build on his face. “If you need a last minute flower stop, I know just the guy.”
“This isn’t some cheap trick to make me spend money at a vendor you owe something to, is it?”
“Alphen!” Lagill clutched her chest dramatically, looking wounded. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me like that! Does that really sound like something I would do?”
“Yes, absolutely, without question,” he deadpanned, watching her. “I still remember what you told Kisara and Shionne about wedding bouquets. This isn’t a repeat of something like that, is it?”
She tsked softly, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head. “You don’t trust me at all. I’m hurt, Alphen. I tell you, I’m positively distraught.” Then she laughed and planted her hands on her hips, grinning up at him. “But let me ask you this, even if I’m wrong, what’s the worst that happens this time? You bring home some flowers to make your wife happy, and it doesn’t have extra meaning. Not a terrible consequence, right?”
He watched her suspiciously, then sighed and laughed quietly in return. “I guess you’re right. Alright, I’ll bite. Where’s this vendor?”
Following the directions he was given, Alphen found his way to a colorful cart that stood out both for its decoration, and the large crowd surrounding it. Lagill couldn’t possibly be responsible for this many customers, this ‘special day’ must be a real thing after all. A voice called out from the cart that they were all out of roses, and a shutter was dropped without ceremony. The crowd collectively groaned and began to drift away in different directions. Alphen stood there, feeling lost, and glanced down at his basket. He frowned to himself and stepped up to the cart.
“I’m all out, boy,” the elderly man at the cart said, looking at him from under bushy white eyebrows. “Should’ve come by earlier.”
“Ah, so I see. Lagill sent me this way, though I’m still not really sure what this whole thing is about.”
The old florist stared at him for a long time, then slowly looked him over. “You’re the Blazing Sword, ain’tcha? You fit the description, at least.”
“My name is Alphen. The sword is a weapon I carried, it isn’t me.” He used to just protest with his name, but Shionne had convinced him to add a little more to it. She argued that people might thing he was simply introducing himself otherwise, and if he wanted to drive home the point that the sword was a symbol and he was a man, then he’d have to say it.
The tactic did work, and the old man grunted his understanding, giving him another appraising once over. “Well, I can’t do anything about the fact that I’m out of flowers. But, seeing as it’s you, I can tell you where to pick some. So long as zeugles aren’t a problem for you.”
Alphen reached up to the sword he carried on his back. Sincleaver went with him most places, as even though the walk from home to the city was usually safe, there was the occasional stray wandering about. He carried it by the maxim that it was best to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. He grasped its hilt for a moment then let it go, nodding to the man, “Zeugles aren’t an issue.”
“If you go out past the Highway to the Overlook and climb up some of the cliffs, you can find all sorts of roses. The climbs are almost as dangerous as the zeugles, so you need to be careful, or go around and fight more of the things. Either way, you’ll find a lot of wild roses up high out there. There’s plenty of Roses of Unity, of course, but you’ll find other colors, too. Just make sure you pick the right ones if you’re trying to gift a special lady.”
“Right ones?” Alphen asked, cocking his head in confusion.
“The right colors, son,” the man elaborated. “No orange for sure, and yellow is just for friends. Stick with red, white, and pink if you can. And the Unity roses if she likes those. They’re popular with the Dahnan-Renan couples these days.”
Laughing nervously, he scratched at the back of his head, “I had no idea there were so many rules for all this. Is there anything else I should know? Lagill said it’s a Renan tradition?”
“It is, though Dahnans have done similar things for as long as I can remember. We didn’t have a special day for it like the Renans do, but we’d sneak out and get flowers for our sweethearts whenever possible.” The man leaned against his shuttered stall, looking up at the sky, seeming lost in thought for a few long moments. He closed his eyes and sighed, then looked back to Alphen and smiled, “It’s nice that you young ones can celebrate openly like this now. We owe you and yours a great debt, for being able to go out and enjoy life. I live out near Pharia Ranch, you get those flowers and bring them to me, and I’ll make them into a nice bouquet for your ladyfriend, alright? Ask ol’ Bogdel where to find me, he’ll point you the right way.”
“Thank you,” Alphen said softly, unsure how to handle the grave way the man had thanked him. “What’s your name?”
The man smiled and waved up at the sign on his cart, “Trehey’s the name. I look forward to seeing you again later, young Alphen.”
Giving a respectful half-bow, half-nod in farewell, Alphen turned to go back to the food vendors. If he returned home without dinner, he’d be in far larger trouble than if he forgot roses, he was sure. Once his basket was full, he turned to leave the city, thinking on the words he had shared with the old man. There were so many little holidays cropping up, people finding excuses to celebrate every little thing. It was nice, if difficult for him to keep up with, and Menancia seemed to be leading the way in popularizing many of them.
Though as he thought on it, even three centuries back, people loved to celebrate. He could vaguely recall large festivals for the changing seasons, to thank certain animals for what they contributed, to thank parents, or grandparents, or siblings, or to celebrate children, the joy of family, and so much more. That Dahnans were once again able to start participating in such celebrations was a wonderful thing indeed.
Shionne wasn’t home when he stopped by to drop off his shopping, and he remembered her saying something about Rinwell wanting to ask her questions relating to artes. They were likely at the library, and with any luck, they’d be there for some time. He scribbled out a note that he went out for a walk and left it on the counter for her find if she returned home first. He pulled on his few pieces of leather armor that he had been given in Calaglia, double-checked that Sincleaver was in its place on his back, then headed out in search of some roses.
He widely skirted the area the local batch of Lenegis refugees had set up in. They had gotten better over time, but they still very much did not like him, and he preferred not to give them any reason to stress. They didn’t much care for Shionne, either, as she had decided to marry not just any Dahnan, but the one they viewed as responsible for the destruction of their home. Some of the children were friendly with them, when they played out of their parents’ sight, and that gave him hope that things would change for the better. It would simply take time.
Passing through the narrow path that marked the end of the well-patrolled Trasilda Highway, Alphen could immediately hear the grunts and stamping of stray zeugles. This bit of land had remained theirs, and except for the occasional guarded travelers, they were left to have it. Attacks had come less and less frequently as the creatures seemed to begin to understand the borders, and patrols kept their numbers in check whenever they began to try seeing if they could reclaim some of the land. It was an endless game of tug-of-war, but one that the humans seemed to be winning.
A boar type zeugle suddenly charged from the underbrush, and Alphen turned with his blade in hand, swiftly dispatching it with a single blow. Killing it so easily felt almost cheap, and he sighed as it dissolved into astral energy and returned to the planet. Shaking his head, Alphen picked up a tusk that had been dropped and tucked it away to either use or sell later on. No reason to let the materials go to waste, as that would be an even greater disrespect to the creature. The other zeugles in the area seemed to sense the danger he posed, none others trying to attack him as he made his way through the overlook, hiking up steep hills, keeping his eyes peeled for roses.
He reached the top of the pass and paused to look out on Menancia. It had been quite some time since he’d come out this way and seen the place he now called home from the vantage. Squatting at the edge of the cliff, he covered his brow from the glare of the sun and breathed out. Dramatic rock formations marked the land, and in the distance he could see the signs of worked fields. A dot of red-topped yellow amongst deep greens set against ochre cliffs was the home he shared with Shionne. He smiled at that, seeing the little bit of space they had carved out for themselves, amongst many other homes and farms. It made him swell with pride, and he stood up, ready to renew his search for the perfect flowers.
Scaling a short cliff of roughly twenty feet, he came out higher than he had ever been and his breath caught at the field of flowers before him. The old man had been right, there were more types of roses than he had ever thought possible. And it was so close to where people walked, but just difficult enough to get to that it was left almost completely alone. A splash of beauty unknown by its many passers-by.
Taking care not to crush any flowers, he worked his way through, searching for nicest looking blossoms. The man had said reds, pinks, and whites, and those colors reminded him of Shionne, making them perfect. He found four of each, then searched out a pair of Roses of Unity. The pink of the Dahnan blossom was notably different from that of the other pink roses he had picked. Larger, paler, with a crystalline shine. He found one paired with a deep blue Renan blossom of equal splendor and grabbed them as well.
That made fourteen flowers, yes, but he thought the significance of the Unity roses worth having them separate from the dozen. Perhaps he’d be scolded for misunderstanding something about the importance of twelve, but it was a long walk back, and just as with his sword, he’d rather take them with him and then not use them, than to wish he’d just picked them while he was here. At least the walk was uneventful, a gentle breeze carrying the delicate scents of flowers and rich soil, which he breathed in deeply, a relaxed smile turning up his lips.
Walking past his home, it appeared Shionne wasn’t back yet, though he couldn’t be certain. The closed curtains made him think she wasn’t, as she usually opened the ones facing the road when she was in. Good, he still had time then. He continued on the path until he paused at the fork that would lead him either to Viscint or to the ranch. Peering down the street to the city gates, he didn’t see any sign of the flower cart from before, and so he hoped that meant the man was now home. Turning to the ranch, he got directions from Bogdel and soon found the old florist’s home.
The elderly man was outside, unloading empty crates from his cart and carrying them to a shed. Alphen set down his basket of flowers by the front stoop and held out his arms in a silent offer to help with the labor. The man started in surprise then smiled fondly and nodded, handing him a wooden crate. The off loading didn’t take long with the two of them, Alphen doing the labor under Trehey’s direction, and soon after he was being led into the house.
There were flowers everywhere inside, filling vases and pots, claiming every bit of sunlight that came in through the windows. Trehey brought the basket of flowers over to a desk and he lit an oil lamp to see what he was working on. He folded back the cloth covering the basket and pulled roses out one by one, standing them each in holes drilled into his desk for just that purpose. He hummed over them, inspecting them seriously, and then grabbed some shears and set to trimming away thorns and unsightly branches.
Alphen watched the man work without a word, arms crossed as he studied the intense way he handled the flowers. It was fascinating to him, the way you could always find someone who would take to a task with such dedication. This man clearly understood flowers and how to bring out the best in them, and he arranged them meticulously. He turned to pull some other flowers out from a nearby cabinet, little things to fill out the bouquet, slipping them between rose stems and turning the arrangement around in his hands to study each change he made to it. Finally satisfied, he tied it all off and wrapped it in colorful paper that he then tied off again.
“Here you are, Alphen. One of my finest bouquets, if I do say so myself. You picked some wonderful roses. I’m sure your ladyfriend will be pleased.”
He took the bouquet gratefully, looking it over with awe. He was surprised that it had become something so elegant as what he now held, and he began to understand the reason for the tradition, if just a little. Smiling warmly, he nodded gratefully to the old man. “Thank you, Trehey. I think you’re right.”
“She’s a Renan, is she?” he asked, stroking a thick white beard. “You picked out the Roses of Unity special, didn’t you?”
“Yes…,” he hesitated. Even in Menancia, sometimes folk didn’t like that their ‘hero’ had married one of ‘them.’
The old man simply smiled and nodded, reaching over to pat Alphen on the elbow. “It’s great to see things changing so much. If the man who overthrew Renan rule can fall in love with a Renan, then what’s to stop the rest of us from accepting each other?”
Alphen relaxed and nodded with a wistful smile. “She was with me from day one. I never would’ve been able to do what I did without her help. I never would have even started, if I hadn’t met her…”
“Oh? That sounds like an interesting story. But one for another day, perhaps. You’ve a gift to be giving her, hm?”
“Right. Thanks again, Trehey, for everything.”
Alphen left, the bouquet sticking conspicuously out of the basket as he walked home. Approaching the little yellow house, he noted the curtains were now open, and he tucked the basket behind him. “I’m home,” he called out when he opened the door, and was met with the sight of his wife standing at the kitchen counter, preparing dinner. She turned to him and smiled brightly, and he couldn’t help but to smile in return.
“Where’d you go for a walk that you needed all that?” she asked, gesturing at his leather arm guard and vest.
“To the overlook. It’s been awhile.” He walked up to her, his arms still behind his back, and she raised a brow at him curiously. He leaned down to kiss her and she sighed happily, setting the knife down on the cutting board and winding her arms around his shoulders. He carefully freed the bouquet from the basket and gave the latter a half toss to the dining table when he couldn’t quite reach from where they stood. Shionne giggled against his lips at that, and he wound an arm around her waist.
Tucking her close to his side, he brought out the flowers for her to see, and was rewarded with a gentle gasp and a blushing of her cheeks. She timidly reached out for the bouquet and looked up at him, searching for answers. “I didn’t think you’d know about today…”
“I didn’t,” he admitted, leaning in for another kiss. “Lagill informed me, and against my better judgment, I listened to her for once.”
Shionne laughed at that and nodded, pulling the flowers close and breathing in deep. “This is beautiful,” she whispered, looking over the elegant arrangement of flowers. “I never, I never thought I’d get a bouquet like this…”
He reached up to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye, and smiled encouragingly. “You can tell me, about little things like this. I know I’m out of the loop with a lot of this stuff, but if it’s important to you, you should tell me.”
She laughed quietly, admiring the bouquet a moment longer, then looking up to admire his gentle face in turn. “Honestly, I didn’t realize it was important to me, until you showed me these flowers. Thank you, Alphen. I’ll always treasure this moment.”
“I love you, Shionne. I want to make you happy, always.”
“You already do, Alphen.”