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I was rudely awakened from my musings by a distant noise. The reverberating of it through the gully was like a slap in the face by a cold hand. I tried to open my eyes but it was useless; disuse and gunk had sealed them shut. The rain had slowed, and I thought my ears picked up a whining from far away. The whining sounded pitiful, a dog? I wondered.
My body tensed as I secretly prayed it wasn’t a ghost or a wolf. I had hoped somebody would recognise me after my demise, but never had I counted on a wolf to desecrate my body beforehand, or a ghost that came all too soon to collect my soul.
I heard a low pitched bay, and this time I was sure it was a dog.
My mind frowned as my face was incompetent, and I thought I heard a voice again in the distance. Not the unearthly tomblike sort as one might expect in such times as these, but a human voice. A man’s voice.
My mind soon grew tired and drifted into the darkness that hovered above my thoughts.

The voices grew closer.
Like white wraiths in the darkness of my mind I imagined I felt many hands raise me up gently. My head grew dizzy and my ears died as they moved me, the blood running its last course around my frail mortal flesh before pouring out of the slash in my belly. I thought the mysterious hands would carry me swiftly to my final resting place, but that was before I caught a whiff of the muskiness of horses.
Something poured ice-cold liquid into my mouth as the hands prodded at my mostly-numb body, and I choked on the liquid as something sent a sharp spear of pain soaring up my spine. The shock was not a few seconds over when it impaled me again.
The pain was too much for my already weary body to bear; my brain forced itself to shutdown as a third jolt seared my nerves and I fell into the all too-familiar darkness.

--

Cool air and sunlight brought me to my senses.
I slowly cracked my eyes open and found to my relief that I was not yet dead. I was lying on my bed, in my own bedchambers. I had been washed and my wounds tended to, and I lay naked under a thin sheet. I blinked my eyes against the pale golden hued sunlight streaming through the pair of open windows, and when they adjusted, looked around my surroundings.
My bed was positioned on the right of the small room, a large window behind my pillow -and its brother on the left wall- pouring strips of sunlight over my prostrated form and spilling it onto the large rug on the wooden floorboards. My small silver washbasin and looking-glass were placed on a large chest of drawers in the left corner of the room, the door leading to the living room on the right.
The bittersweet smell of freshly hewed pine drifted lazily through the open windows towards my direction, and I steadily breathed in the fresh aroma. My lungs, unaccustomed to such a thing, rejected the air, causing me to cough heavily. My body racked with the force and threw my pain once again into sharp relief. When the coughs subsided, leaving me feeling drained and beaten, I decided to take a look at the damage inflicted on my body.
I took a slow, calming breath and lifted myself up onto my elbows. The thin cotton sheet that had been covering me slipped down to my hips and what I saw made me wish I had not moved. As I had sat up, the raspberry-black surface of a large diagonal scab to the right of my navel had cracked and split, and a putrid yellow substance was leaking from the fissure, to dispense warmly down my side.
My head grew light and my thoughts swam before I flopped onto my back to keep from fainting.

--

The man tucked the bundle up higher under his left arm, pulling the stubborn old mule along with his right. His mother would be proud. She would no longer kick him and spit in his face, calling him a moron. He hugged his prized parcel tighter, re-living the look on the priest’s face as he slashed him in two, blood spraying his clothes and face, the smell of it in the air; and the priest’s limp corpse falling. He had grinned as he picked up the parcel that the priest was so unwilling to hand over. He had taken it, and he had taken his mule. His mother would be proud.
Oswald fingered the package as he trudged up the dirt lane leading to the farmhouse. He dared not open it; his mother would hit him and send him to bed without supper if she knew. Oswald was a grown man, but he knew he was simple. His mother would tell him everyday to stay away from the good folk of the nearby towns as he would pollute them with his filth. The sky grumbled and threatened to rain on his huddled form as he walked faster, anxious to hear his mother’s praises; and he quickly let go of the rope tied to the mule and licked his hand to wipe over his blood-stained countenance. He grinned at the taste of the coppery substance.

His mother was waiting for him in the barn when he arrived. The ugly old woman turned to face him and scowled, her clothes covered in stinking manure. She had been cleaning up the horse-stalls, a job Oswald was told to do this morning.
She shook the rake menacingly at him. ‘Where have you been? Sneaking off like that when there are chores to be done! I ought to flay you right here!’
Oswald frowned. His mother must have forgotten that she told him to go in search of some gold.
‘Don’t you frown at me!’ she shouted shrilly, ‘I’m not the one who left the horses standing in their own shit!’ she peered over his shoulder at the mule, and narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Whose is that?’
Oswald puffed up proudly. ‘A priest’s. He w-was alone on the r-road and I cut him down a-and I t-took it.’
His mother’s eyes filled with panic, ‘A priest? You murdered a PRIEST?!’ she cried sharply as she came closer, wielding the rake as if it were a sword; fresh manure dripping in globs from its spikes.
Oswald filled with panic; he knew she was going to beat him. The whip-marks she made on his back last week had not fully healed, and that had not been a serious thrashing. Trembling, he held out the package. ‘B-but look w-what I found!’
He hoped it was something good, or his mother would surely strike him with that evil rake.
His mother was hard to please.
She eyed the package suspiciously before dropping the rake and snatching the bundle out of his hands. Glaring at him, she savagely rifled through the package until she found what was at its core.
Oswald leaned towards her to get a better look. She held in her scrawny hands what seemed to be a plain, leather-bound book. Inwardly, Oswald cringed. He knew that if mother was not pleased, he would be punished.
He watched timidly as his mother traced trembling fingers over a large golden symbol on the book’s jacket, and froze as she asked,
‘Do you know what this is?’
Oswald did not know what it was, and told his mother as much.
His mother nodded her small, grey head.
Silly mother, he thought, she knows I cannot read.
The old woman, carrying the book as if it were about to explode, walked slowly to an old wine barrel in the far corner of the barn where she lifted a panel from the wall, and placed the tome in its depths.
Oswald smiled. The hidden cupboard has been most useful for hiding extra cash when the tax collector came.
His mother shut the panel viciously and rounded up on him.
‘Why did I have you for a son?!’
Oswald’s curiosity about the strange book died with his smile. He knew the look in his mother’s eyes and didn’t like it.
‘Why did I have to be the one who had a retard instead of a prince?’ She stepped dangerously closer, and Oswald backed up against a wall.
“Why was I cursed to look after you, when your bastard of a father ran off every night to his whores in town?’ her face screwed up in disgust, ‘I should have killed you when you were born!’
Oswald threw his mother a horrified look, but this only heartened her efforts to abuse him.
She sneered and continued; ‘Oh yes… don’t think I didn’t want to. As soon as I saw you I knew you would be a complete waste. It was your father who wanted to keep you.’ She nodded to herself, as if deciding something she had long been considering. ‘Yes, if I had it my way, you would have been left outside for the heathen Gods that spawned you!’
She picked up the rake again and continued towards the large, huddled form of her challenged son.
Oswald shielded his head under his arms. His mother was not pleased.
He knew what was coming.

--

I awoke with a jolt of pain. I had been having the strangest dreams lately, overflowing with images, and sounds of people going about their day-to-day life, but for some reason this dream was disturbing. This ‘Oswald’ and his mother had never before visited my night-visions, and they scared me for a reason which I do not know.
I had been confined to my room for the past two weeks to heal and rest.
My wounds had almost healed, but the pain still had not dissipated, and Braccada gave me a mix of poppy seeds to take every night before I slept, to numb the pain. The only thing that is wrong with that are the dreams the poppy brings on.
I had always had realistic visions, but the poppy had been increasing the feelings, reactions and emotions I have towards the dreams, causing me once to wake up, in a panic, my face wet with tears. I cannot remember much of that particular dream, other than the fact that someone passed away, and left someone somewhere alone.
Forever alone.
I had tried to tell Brac that I would rather live through the pain than one of those horribly emotional dreams, but he strictly refused to be part of any such nonsense, and told me to shut up and drink the syrup.

I thought about the errant incident that almost cost Braccada’s and my life. That was around four years ago, and I was no closer to understanding what had happened that fateful day. It was a few weeks until my sixteenth year, and Brac had been making the preparations, along with other fathers, for the celebration. I have heard that in other Kingdoms, one is not required to hold a celebration of manhood for their sons, but I could not understand why. The celebration is an excellent chance to meet new people and gain knowledge in which career you choose to pursue.
I grinned at my thoughts. I would probably be a soldier like Lucien.
Lucien was in the celebration held last year, and there was said to be quite a few masters interested in the burly, sandy-haired teenager, including the shipmaster, who had been looking for a strong boy to help cut and move wood for construction. Luc was the obvious choice. Much to the dismay of the shipmaster, he had been enrolled into Army-training in less than five minutes of the official opening.

I sighed and hoped I wouldn’t be bombarded with suggestions to become a woodcutter or a stonemason. Physical work appealed to me, but I could not spend the rest of my days carving ships and statues; I needed something to stimulate my mind as well as my muscles.
Owlishly blinking the sleep from my eyes, I stood up slowly, letting the blood run naturally through my veins. I walked over to my chest of drawers carefully, taking my time to make sure the scab on my stomach would not pull or crack. The last time the latter had happened, had resulted in me falling to the floor in a dead faint, and Braccada going into a furious panic about my physical well-being.
I had recited all I remembered from the incident that caused the gash to Braccada, on my first awakening.
Lucien and I had been hunting in the forest for rare birds, when we decided we would have much more success if we split up. Lucien had departed for the North, and I had gone East. We had agreed on meeting at the forest entrance before sundown, no matter what we were doing.
Upon searching for a few hours, I came upon a purple and green bird of which I had never seen the likes of before. As I was stringing my bow, the bird fluttered wildly into the trees, and something on the other side of the clearing caught my eye. A boar. I had no idea what a boar would be doing this far into the forest, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out.
I had started to run back the way I came when the boar charged at me.
I managed to get a few running-shots at the boar, and -miraculously-  hit him in the shoulder. However, this only aggravated him all the more. He soon caught up with me and I turned around just in time to be slashed with one of his tusks.
I fell to the ground in pain, the adrenaline fading quickly from my tired body, and he decided to trample me before trotting off from whence he came, -presumably in pain from the arrow in his flank.
After relating my story to him, Braccada (after he made sure I was alive and well) decided to take some friends and make a hunt of the wounded boar; as he felt the need for the ancient ways of vengeance. Search he did.
He found the boar alive with a festering arrow wound, and slaughtered it on the spot.

After splashing refreshingly cool water onto my face, I started to wipe the droplets off my skin, and stopped as my gaze wandered over a small wooden figure on the chest-top.
It was the famous depiction of Sir Roman that Braccada had carved for me a few years ago.
When I was younger I had dreamed of being Sir Roman, the most well-known and revered of all Generals in ancient history. Sir Roman had united and lead the armies of Caltonia into a single catastrophic combat with our foreign enemies, the Bellarunians, that would forever seal our independence.
I had dreamed of sitting high on my war horse, my silver armour glowing in the light of the setting sun, and the banners of Caltonia held by my comrades snapping in the evening breeze. On my word would hundreds of thousands of men charge headfirst into a battle that would prove fatal for most, but would ultimately protect our land and future.
I smiled bitterly at the awesomeness of such power.
Power so ultimate that it could only end in the wielder’s fatality or psychosis, neither of which greatly appealed to me.
As it had happened, Sir Roman had died from his wounds in that war, but not before wiping out the threat to our nation. He was rightfully a hero and a legend.

I finished my task of drying and gingerly pulled a shirt and trousers on, before stepping out into the living room. I narrowly missed falling over a large roll of parchment that was left on the floor outside my door, causing me to yelp with fright.
I looked up angrily. The room was littered with paper, and several bulky forms sat communing at the dining table, which was also covered with various bits of parchment, and what looked like pictures of the main streets of Arin.
My inopportune and embarrassing noise attracted glances from the meeting-goers, and one by one they fell silent as they noticed, -and were surprised by- my appearance.

The uncomfortable stillness was gratefully broken as Braccada came sauntering out of the kitchen looking disturbingly pleased about something. He seemed to noticed the general lack of noise, and looked up to find me appraising him with interest.
He looked strange to me, out of his General’s uniform, as I usually saw him wearing it in the morning as he got home, in the evening as he left for his post, and sometimes during the day, when he would be called on an emergency.
Today he looked extraordinary.
His usual hairstyle of shoulder-length shaggy brown hair had been swept up austerely into a warrior’s tail, and tied with a red sash that fell to his waist; which was also swathed in an identical sash, the tails of which cascaded like a smooth crimson waterfall down his left leg. He was cleanly shaven, and was wearing his best pleated cream shirt and charcoal trousers. All in all, he was quite striking.

As I was pondering why he would be clad in such formal attire, he seemed to grasp my presence, gave me a short, surprised look, and moved swiftly across the littered room towards me -crimson tails flying behind him; and ushered me back inside my bed-chamber.
I stepped hurriedly into my room and as I turned to ask him what in Pepin’s name was going on, he promptly shut the door inches from my nose.

--

Arismath.
The day had come.
I stretched languidly and blinked at the sunlight streaming through the windows. Tonight was the celebration, and I was ready for it. Independence is not a huge deal to most people, but I wanted it more than anything. Braccada was as lenient as the next man, but it’s an entirely different kettle of fish when you are able to do what you want, when you want.
I yawned heartily and went outside to the wash-house.
I was surprised upon arrival, to find Braccada occupying one of the two tubs set beside one another, his eyes closed, soaking in steaming water that smelled of lavender.
I grinned foolishly at the thought of Brac smelling like lavender. Imagine what his soldiers would say if…
‘I know what you’re thinking boy, and I wouldn’t if I were you.’ Came the  soft growling voice of my step-father. My grin grew wider.
‘And you can stop that foolish grin of yours. You’re getting the lavender treatment too.’ Now it was his turn to smile as he opened his eyes and saw mine slowly fade.
‘I’m what?’
‘You’re getting the lavender treatment, as I’ve come to call it. Old Beaterman decided that we need to look -and smell- our best today. So throw that awful shirt to the wash, get your scrawny behind in that tub, and stop looking at me like that.’
I shut my mouth that was hanging open, and deciding that repartee would just make things worse, set my resolve to getting undressed quickly and getting in the tub while it was still hot.
After removing the offending clothing, I slowly sank into the tub’s perfumed mass of steaming liquid and sighed with pleasure.

The smell of lavender was overwhelming at first, but it began to dull my senses and soon it gently lulled me into a blissful nap.
I awoke with a splash when Brac decided it would be fun to throw sponges and other assorted wash items at my sleeping form.
This prompted a full-scale water fight which lasted until several minutes later, when the door burst open to mark the appearance of Mrs. Beaterman, friend and grocer of our household.
She took in the soaked room, our depleted water supplies, and our soap-covered surprised looks all in one swift glance, huffed haughtily, and hobbled slowly inside- careful not to slip on the drenched floorboards.
Brac lowered his raised arm that had presently been made ready to fire his ammunition of sponges at me, and I sank lower into the tub for decency’s sake.

Mrs. Beaterman placed the paper-wrapped parcel that she was holding onto the only part of the towel-table that wasn’t wet, and taking one last look at our quite humiliated countenance, hobbled back out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
I stole a glance at Braccada and he looked back, before we both erupted with laughter that could -in all probability- be heard for miles around.

--

I was washing my back as Braccada lit up a cigar and puffed at it dreamily.
‘You know boy, tonight is a very special occasion...’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’
He continued on as if I had said nothing.
‘...yes, tonight is the only chance you get to drink as much as you like and get absolutely inebriated, act like an ass, insult the whole town, wake up next to whoever you want, and still get away with it.’
He caught me by surprise and I laughed as he puffed away at the tobacco-stuffed roll, his feet resting out of the water, and crossed over the lip of the tub.

‘I have a feeling you’ll be pleasantly surprised tonight.’ He said suddenly.
I looked up at him and started to wonder about the strange meeting that had occurred the two weeks before.
‘Dare I ask why?’ I inquired carefully.
He grinned wolfishly. ‘You dare not. And besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your surprise.’
I rolled my eyes and decided that if there was one thing that Braccada could do better than others, it would be his ability to keep a secret. The man was just so damn stubborn. Usually any attempt to get information out of him would just lead to satirical abuse, at the inquirer’s expense.

I was suddenly aware of the fact that the bath water had grown cold, and decided that now was as good a time as any to get out.  I stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around my loins, and curiously went to see what Mrs. Beaterman had left for us.

I heard a sloshing sound as Braccada was interested too, and soon he was looking over my shoulder.
‘Well go on then, open it!’ he exclaimed impatiently.
I folded my loin-towel into itself then reached over the table with both hands to unwrap the paper parcel.
I pulled the string and the paper fell away to reveal a beautiful white cloth. No, not cloth, I thought to myself, and lifted the material up for closer inspection.
The shirt was pure white, with the arms from the shoulder down puffed and crimped slightly, and was incredibly soft to the touch. I ran my fingers over it and marvelled at its fineness.
I put the beautiful shirt down on the paper, and gaped in awe at the next item
It was the most incredible vest I had ever seen.
It was jet-black, and had a soft-velvety feel to it. Each button down the centre was a  disk of ivory, and each featured a sea serpent coiled serenely around the letter ‘D’.
I tried not to put the vest down as I quickly looked at the next items in the package.
A pair of Black trousers, to match the vest, and a long white silk sash to finish it off.

I glanced at Braccada behind me, and I knew the grin on his face.
‘These are mine?’
His grin grew steadily. ‘Well they wouldn’t fit me.’
I looked back at the items and mulled things over.
‘They’re for tonight?’
Brac snorted and went off to dry himself.  ‘Obviously…’
‘Did you..?’
‘Look, do you want them or not? And does it really matter who bought them?’
I smiled at his impatience. ‘No, I guess not.’ I surreptitiously wondered how much this outfit had set his savings back, and promised myself that one day I would repay him for all he had done for me.

I dressed carefully and slowly, savouring the first feel of the soft material against my skin. I had put on the trousers and the shirt, and was buttoning up the ivory disks of my vest as I turned to witness Braccada staring at me. ‘…what?’
My stepfather blinked and said in wonder, ‘By the Gods, you look like your mother.’
The shock must have inadvertently shown of my face, for he shifted his eyes and began to tie the crimson sash around his own waist.
My mother. There are not many times I can recall Braccada speaking about my mother, it seemed too much of a painful subject for him. Dying for knowledge of her as I was, I knew not to ask him, for fear of upsetting him.
Grief never dies, it just fades; and I do not think it has faded yet from the man before me.

--

I was in my bedchamber trying to tie my sash when I noticed it wasn’t plain after all. On the tail of one side, in cream thread so fine you wouldn’t notice it unless you were close, was embroidered the depiction of a large eagle, with outstretched wings, about to catch its prey in its sharp talons.
I did not know the meaning of this symbol, but was disrupted from my musings when Braccada, fully decent in his formal attire came into the room, tut-tuting loudly.
‘You don’t do it like that, here, give it to me.’
He pointedly lifted my arms out of the way and began wrapping the white silk around my waist. He tied it off loosely, and wrapped the tails over each other, so that the white eagle was facing the outside.
He smiled at a job well done, before he saw the state of my hair.
‘Aemilia’s love boy, what is wrong with your hair?’
I shrugged before turning to glance at my reflection in the looking-glass.
The ear-length locks of my hair stuck out all over my head like glossy black tendrils, reaching out for some sort of refuge. Or a comb, perhaps.
I smiled and turned back to Braccada’s curious expression.
‘I guess it didn’t like the lavender.’
‘Ahh,’ Brac deliberated. ‘No problem, I have just the thing.’
He disappeared out of the doorway, only to reappear seconds later with what looked like a bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a comb in the other.
I looked at the bottle with mingled curiosity and attentiveness.
‘What’s in that?’
‘Just a little something I whipped up for occasions such as this…’
Ye Gods, I thought, not another one of his experiments.
‘I’m not sure if I want to do this,’ I said warily.
He gave me a wolfish grin and said quite plainly, ‘Too bad, ‘cause I’m gonna do it anyway.’
I cringed as he pointed to the bed, but I succumbed to his wishes and sat down.
He went to the washbasin, poured some of the liquid from the bottle over the comb, and quickly came over to where I sat.
I closed my eyes, expecting something unpleasant, but all I felt was the comb dragging through my hair, and a distinct smell of almonds.
‘Is it working?’ I asked curiously.
‘See for yourself.’ He stopped working, handed me the comb and stepped out of the way.
I stood up to view my reflection, and I was thoroughly shocked. It had actually worked. My hair was smoothed back, and now shined sleekly, as if it had been buffed with polish.
I turned to smile at my stepfather, but found I was alone. I shook my head. There’ll be no living with him after this, I thought to myself supremely.

--

Lucien thumped his mug down on the table, hooting heartily at his own crude joke.
I jumped out of the way of the falling droplets of ale –not wishing to soil my new clothes, and laughed with him.
We sat on one of the makeshift tables sets that were strewn across the party field, under the merrily twinkling stars of the black night sky.
In the centre of the field a band of musicians and bards played merry tunes that lifted the spirits and lowered the self-consciousness of the party goers, causing them to dance happily across the grass,  and around the lantern poles that had been set up for extra lighting.

I noticed Braccada talking with a friend at a table of women in hysterics, and when I caught his eye he winked and waved at me. I grinned foolishly at him and took a swig of ale. When I set the mug back down and looked over the field, a pretty girl with long raven hair caught my eye as she danced and twirled with her partner. Ami.      She was still one of my closest friends, but she now had curves in places that caught the average male’s interest.
She noticed my attention and smiled as she twirled happily around a lantern.
When the song finished and the jubilant audience applauded the bowing bards, she departed from her dancing partner and headed across the field towards our table.
Lucien discreetly left to “fetch more ale” and I frowned after him. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone with Ami. Women don’t usually intimidate me, but Ami had the candidness and attitude of a male, having spent all of her free time with us since childhood, and I was still not sure how to act around her.

She was short or breath as she stepped up the small slope that encircled the party field and slumped down next to me, reaching for my mug.
She took a few gulps before slamming it on the table, and exclaiming something that sounded like;
‘Fwoarh! Great night, innit?’
I smiled at her and nodded, ‘Sure is. Who was that you were dancing with?’ I nodded towards her would-be dancing partner, who was now chasing a blond girl around the people huddled at the enrolment table, ‘I don’t think I’ve seen him before.’
She shook her head serenely, her loose hair swaying gracefully back and forth.
‘Who, Eric?’ She gave a snort of laughter, ‘No, he’s from the South. He’s only here in town for the celebration. His brother lives here, and is also being commended tonight. She eyed him chase the blond girl over the grass and laughed as he knocked a beer over an unfortunate snogging couple. ‘Looks like he’s having fun though.’
She eyed me appraisingly. ‘You do look awfully handsome tonight,’ she admitted, before adding, ‘Will you dance with me?’
I was glad for the cover of darkness as I blushed. I didn’t know how to dance. Braccada had tried to teach me, but two men dancing is awfully distracting and we usually ended up on the floor in hysterics. I told her as much and she grinned.
‘Come on then, I’ll teach you.’
‘But  I….’ My pleas were cut short as she stood up, grabbed my hand, and hauled me out of my comfortable seat. She pulled me along behind her like an unwilling puppy, and we passed Braccada’s table of shrieking women.
I closed my eyes and hoped that they had not noticed, when I heard one woman say,
‘Ooh look Braccy, there goes your youngin, off with a lass!’
This observation caused the whole table to turn and watch Ami trudge past with me in tow.
‘Doesn’t look like he enjoys it that much.’ Stated one of the younger ladies.
‘Yeh, looks like a lost puppy,’ added another.
‘Ah, ye wait till later on. If ‘e’s got stamina like this one ‘ere –she indicated my stepfather with a wave of her hand- she’ll be following him around like a lost puppy,… eager fer a bone!’ chimed in one of the other ladies, causing the whole table to erupt with laughter, including Brac who turned and gave me a sly wink as my face grew redder by the second.
We gratefully passed the table that was making more crass suggestions about my person, and weaved through to the core of the assorted twirling colours of dancers.

Ami stopped suddenly and turned to face me.
‘OK. Lesson one.’ She said comically in her best Master Guylian voice. I smiled at her and noticed that she too, had been blushing.
She stepped closer towards me and picked up my left hand, placing it comfortably in her right, entwining our fingers.
‘Now, if I step here,’ -she indicated by side-stepping to her left- ‘…you step here.’ Ami pushed me slightly to my own left, and I nodded.
‘Right. And, a-one two three, one two thr.. no no no, not like that!’ She exclaimed impatiently, as I had apparently put my left foot forward instead of my right.
I sighed heavily, ‘This isn’t going to work. I told you I can’t dance.’
‘Nonsense,’ She said haughtily. ‘Just watch my feet and do the opposite.’
I cringed but obeyed my partner, watching her feet and doing the opposite.
Right foot, back, left foot, back, change hands, right foot, back, left foot ba… oh bollocks!
I was just getting the hang of it when I glanced up to see Braccada’s entire table staring at me with frank interest and smirks on their faces, and I had stumbled over a couple behind me, causing me to crash to the ground with the male of the said pair, and we both now lay on the grass laughing heartily at our own misfortune.
The crowd around us started to chuckle also, and soon everybody was dancing again. To my relief, Ami helped me back up on my feet.
I grinned at her vexed expression and asked calmly, ‘Shall we try again?’

We danced for hours under the starry night sky, sometimes changing partners with the couples around us, and I found I had picked up the art of movement quite rapidly. I was now dancing faster and faster, much to the relief of Ami, who I noticed looked incredibly proud at the fact that she had taught me to dance. I was breathing hard and grinning when I dipped her at the end of the song, and she slapped my shoulder playfully as I held her there, her head almost touching the grass.
‘Let me up you big ox!’
‘Not in a million years, Miss Amiliana!’
Ami gasped and started to wriggle which made me grin wider. She hated her full name, and was not going to let me get away with it.
She swiftly kicked me in the shin, and I stood up straight with a cry of pain. In standing up, I had also inadvertently released her from my grasp.
She pushed me away from her and grabbed my waist-sash at the same time, causing it to come free, and she wrapped it around her neck as she looked at me innocently.
‘Give that back!’ I demanded, massaging my throbbing shin.
‘No, I do not thing so Mr. Winter.’ I frowned at her and she added, you’ll have to come and get it.’ And with that, she took off as fleet as a deer, in the opposite direction.
I cursed under my breath, and decided I would have to get that sash back, chase or no.

--

Braccada chortled at the latest joke from the collection of intoxicated persons at his table, and glanced over at his son, dancing magnificently with his raven-haired friend.
His heart filled with mixed emotions as he eyed Dain, spinning his partner perfectly and dipping her elegantly as the joyful song ended. It filled with sorrow at the thought of letting the boy go. He didn’t want to, and yet he knew he must. His heart also overflowed with joy over the fine man he was turning out to be. He would be proud of Dain, no matter how his story ended, or where fate would take him.

A man in a long black cloak who Braccada noticed had been watching Dain the entire evening, bowed in response to his polite nod, and turned to leave.
Braccada sighed. He would have to tell the boy someday, but not now.
Not now.

--

I chased Ami’s swirling skirts through the moonlit streets of Arin, and soon found myself at the docks, with no sight nor sound of her.
I knew where she would be.
As children, Luc, Ami, John and I would sometimes go to the secluded warehouses of the harbour, and play there until sunset.

I slid through the warehouses as silently as a cat, and came to the end of the road, where a grassy hill lead down to the rocky shores of the Coastal Seas.
As I looked out over the glossy coat of the ocean I heard soft footfalls behind me.
‘I knew you’d be here.’ I said quietly.
Her voice floated softly over the breeze, ‘That was the point...’
I was a little more than surprised. I thought we were playing a game, and I just wanted to get my sash back; but as it turned out,  she had more than that on her mind.
I turned to see her smiling at me, running the precious silk through her fingers.
I raised my eyebrows as she moved closer and stopped with a jerk.
‘You may think me forward, but I’ve wanted to do this for a long time…’
And she quickly came closer to kiss me full on the mouth. My eyes flew wide and I blushed like crazy. She was right, I did think her forward.
She stepped back, with a triumphant look on her pretty face, and cast her eyes downward.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. Heavens above, I couldn’t think at all. Instead I just opened my mouth and said the first thing that came to mind;
‘Could I have my sash back now?’
She snapped her head up and glared at me indignantly, before realising that I was grinning again. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
‘On one condition…’
I raised one eyebrow and asked carefully, ‘And what might that be?’ Although in truth, I already had a pretty accurate idea.
She smiled, and grasping the glowing white silk with both hands, looped it over my head and pulled me down to kiss her once more.

--

Braccada had told me many tales of a night like this, what to expect, what to do, and what to watch out for; but nothing could prepare me for the emotional impact of the act itself.
I rolled over onto my stomach and lifted myself onto my elbows.
The moon cast silvery light through the window of the warehouse and onto our exposed forms as my eyes traced the contours of Ami’s back.
She slept soundly on her stomach, every now and then giving a small whisper of breath to signify a deep and well-earned rest.
I picked at the fraying edges of the blanket we were lying on to occupy myself.
Whenever Braccada had spoken of the act, he had always spoken of it in relation to love and respect. Love and Respect.
Did I respect Ami? Yes. Did I love her? No.
I felt shamed that I had used her in such a manner, but when she had offered her flesh so willingly, who was I to refuse? How could I refuse?
Love is fickle, I mused. I did not love her, and was glad of it.
I have seen much wiser folk than I swim in the river of love, with beauty and happiness that flows plentiful; but I have also seen them drown in it.
If Ami loves me, -which I doubt- there is nothing I can do to save her from that decision. I however, would not be another victim of the rapids that come shortly after the smooth current…
I would keep my feet on the stability of land.

--

We talked, napped, and made love until dawn.
When the sun rose, casting golden rays over our warming flesh, we decided to head back into town.
The celebration had not yet ended, and drunken citizens still weaved their way from tavern to tavern, singing loudly and laughing merrily.
When we arrived, fully-dressed and presentable in Main Street, Ami handed me back my precious sash.
‘You did good.’ She said politely.
I bowed and kissed her hand humorously. ‘Milady.’
She grinned and curtsied before turning and heading in the direction of her home, occasionally turning around and smiling at me, or greeting people she knew in the street.
I smoothed my rumpled hair back and re-tied my sash as Braccada had done the day before.

As I walked through the busy streets, the sun on my neck, I tried to wipe the goofy grin that had crept onto my face off, before someone should guess my secret.
Too late.
I heard a  bark of a laugh behind me, and turned to see Lucien, with a pretty girl on his arm, saunter out of a tavern, and head straight for me.
Oh sh-
‘Well hello there ye auld rogue. And just where were you all nigh’? Me an’ Trixie ‘ere were lookin’ for ye all over!’ He indicated the girl’s presence with a short flick of his hand.
He then turned to look at her and added slyly, ‘Well,… maybe not all over.’
I tried not to smile. ‘Did you search all over the beds?’
‘Aye..’ he said with a wink, ‘…that we did.’
I snorted. ‘Then you wouldn’t have found me. I wasn’t pre-occupied with a bed last night.’
Lucien suddenly became interested.
‘Go on Trixie, off with ye now.’ He directed at the girl, slapping her behind as she squealed and left for the tavern they had previously exited.
‘You were saying?’
‘Was I?’ I retorted, heading for the party field.
Lucien caught up with me and grinned like a maniac. ‘Oh it’s like that aye?’
I licked my lips to keep from smiling, and steeling my resolve, said quite firmly, ‘What’s like what?’
The buffed teenager raised his eyebrows. ‘Who was she?’
‘You know, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you know where this conversation is going?’
‘HA! Well alright then. If you want to play that game, we’ll play that game.’
‘And what game would that be?’ I innocently asked him, crossing the grass to my now-flat mug of ale, still sitting in the place where I had left it.

Lucien slumped down at the table next to me and looked over at the musicians still playing from the night before, although there would be a note missing here and there, and the singer had long since fallen asleep in her chair.
‘You can tell me, you know…’
I smiled and thumped a hand on his shoulder.
‘I know.’

--

We left the party field separately, each seeking our own beds and a few precious hours rest.
It was only when I started walking up the dusty path towards the cottage when I realised I had not even perused the job-openings. I cursed myself under my breath. All of the worthwhile openings would now be taken, and I would probably become a soldier after all. Nothing was wrong with that of course, but I liked to have options.

I walked in the front door to find my stepfather half comatose at the table, his head was turned away from me and his sash had been removed, leaving is hair to be displayed wildly over the wood. I thought I heard a soft snore coming from his direction.
As I quietly stepped in and shut the door, there came a sleepy voice from across the room.
‘…mnormshutzor…’
‘Sorry?’ I asked, thoroughly confused.
He turned to look at me, his eyes half closed, and rubbed at his face with his hands.
‘Izzaid, dnot shut zdoor…’
I re-opened the door and watched him rub at his face again.
‘Izink my faze izznum…’ He slowly stood up and hobbled out of the back door, and following a loud splash, came back in. His head from the neck up was sopping wet, and his hair dripped water all over the floor. I quickly fetched him a towel, and he sat back in his chair; patting his face with it.

He gave a hearty sigh and sank lower in his chair. As soon as I thought he had fallen asleep again, he opened his mouth and said very carefully,
‘Where were you last night?’
‘With Luc.’ I lied.
‘Ahh. The ever-interesting Lucien. A fine boy to be sure, but a little blood-thirsty for my tastes.’
I nodded at his accurate description. Luc was rather rough, but he was a grand individual and a great friend.
‘Speaking of last night,’ my stepfather interrupted my thoughts, ‘did you have a look at any jobs?’
I shook my head morosely. ‘No, I hadn’t the chance.’
He nodded slowly, ‘Good.’
I was surprised at this answer, and was about to ask what he meant when I realised that it was still an un-godly hour of the morning, and that the man before me had probably been up for the most of the night boozing.
‘Where were you last night?’ I asked curiously.
He tried to laugh but gave up mid-way, as his head seemed to cause him severe pain.
‘Let us just say this; never, under any circumstances whatsoever, hang around with several inebriated women near a lake. They’re bound to want to go in at some point, and that means you’re joining them.’
I frowned, ‘What’s wrong with that?’
He smiled. ‘Like I said, inebriated. They’re likely to want to swim bare-naked.’
I smirked and asked him if he joined them in the end.
‘Oh aye,…’ he said quite seriously, ‘…they threatened to disrepute my manhood if I did not.’ He open one eye and glared at me. ‘We can’t have that now, can we?’

I kept the smirk on my face, but inside my guts were squirming. My palms started to sweat as I tried to ignore the warning in his last statement, but it was as plain as day; Be careful. I had forgotten when I lied to him about being with Ami, that he usually could tell when I lied, and I had also failed to remember that he had eyes and spies all over Arin;  most of whom I would pass on the street and never notice.

He was still glaring at me with one grey eye, and I nodded soberly.
He closed his eye and sighed.
I stood up slowly and headed for my bedchamber when he said,
‘Oh, by the way, you’re starting training tomorrow to be a Best Man.’ He said this so offhandedly that I almost missed it. Almost.
I spun around to find him grinning at me with large white teeth.
‘I…..I what?’
‘You’re starting your training tomorrow.’
‘For whom?’
His grin grew considerably. ‘Lord Fale.’
I was so stunned I almost fell over. For the previous ten years my mind had been located on Lord Fale, the gentile white-haired man who I had run into all those years ago. I had not known that he was looking for a new apprentice.
‘H-how did…’
‘Sit down and I’ll tell you…’
I slumped down in a chair opposite him, and held my expression as that of pure interest, when inside I was almost literally bursting with joy.
‘Well, it started quite a few years ago actually. Lord Fale came to me one day and told me that he had met you on the street and, -do you remember that?- and he asked me if I would mind if he watched you.’
At my blank expression he elaborated, ‘Lords sometimes “watch” those they think might some day be useful, and also, they watch folk who might be a threat to them.
‘Lord Fale saw fit to watching you, and by Wofan’s balls I wasn’t going to say no.’

Braccada paused in his story and asked me, ‘Would you get me a drink? My head is thumping considerably.’
‘Of alcohol?’ I asked somewhat indignantly.
He replied with a snort, ‘Of course. What else kills a hangover?’
I sighed and left for the kitchen, as he started up again.
‘So, this is the part where we come back to two weeks ago… the meeting, if you remember?’
‘Yes I do,’ I shouted from the kitchen, pouring his ale into an old brown mug, ‘I wondered what that was all about…’
‘Yes, well you would wouldn’t you. Nosey little bugger. Anyway, I had an audience with Lord Fale that morning, and he had confirmed that he would like you as his Best Man.’
I reappeared, carrying two mugs of ale, set one in front of Braccada, and sat down with the other.
‘Just like that? He didn’t want to meet with me or test me or anything?’
‘Thanks,.. yes, just like that. Aye, it’s true I never understood it either, but what’s to understand? Everyone knows what a fine boy you are.’

I smiled and took a sip of my refreshing ale, -which had been cooled thanks to a small damp cupboard- and savouring the tiny effervescent bubbles, I nodded at him to continue.
‘Well, that’s it really. He’s sending Albert, his current best man over in the morning to fetch you for your first day.’
Suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore. Albert was the young man who had escorted me to my first day of school. ‘Albert?’ I grinned, ‘Yes, yes I remember him.’
A thought struck me that I felt I should ask.
‘What will I wear? I have nothi...’
Braccada cut me off. ‘Well you see that?’ he said, pointing at my attire.
I looked down at the beautiful set of shirt, vest, trousers and sash.
‘Yes?’
‘That’s your uniform.’
I looked back up at my guardian. ‘It is?’
‘It is. That sash you’re wearing was a gift from the Lord himself. Did you not know that the White Eagle is the symbol of the Fale house?’
I did not. I untied the beautiful silk to get a better look at the cream eagle embroidered on the tail.
He was incredible. His powerful wings were outstretched, his sharp talons spread, waiting to clutch his quarry as he swooped swiftly to the ground.
‘Well,’ my stepfather said as he stood up, still holding his mug possessively, ‘I think I’m going to go get some rest.’
He walked past me and thumped a hand on my shoulder as he did so.
‘You should get some too,’ he said loudly as he entered his chambers, ‘you’ll need all the energy you can muster for tomorrow.’

Description
I was rudely awakened from my musings by a distant noise. The reverberating of it through the gully was like a slap in the face by a cold hand. I tried to open my eyes but it was useless; disuse and gunk had sealed them shut. The rain had slowed, and I thought my ears picked up a whining from far away. The whining sounded pitiful, a dog? I wondered.
My body tensed as I secretly prayed it wasn’t a ghost or a wolf. I had hoped somebody would recognise me after my demise, but never had I counted on a wolf to desecrate my body beforehand, or a ghost that came all too soon to collect my soul.
I heard a low pitched bay, and this time I was sure it was a dog.
My mind frowned as my face was incompetent, and I thought I heard a voice again in the distance. Not the unearthly tomblike sort as one might expect in such times as these, but a human voice. A man’s voice.
My mind soon grew tired and drifted into the darkness that hovered above my thoughts.

The voices grew closer.
Like white wraiths in the darkness of my mind I imagined I felt many hands raise me up gently. My head grew dizzy and my ears died as they moved me, the blood running its last course around my frail mortal flesh before pouring out of the slash in my belly. I thought the mysterious hands would carry me swiftly to my final resting place, but that was before I caught a whiff of the muskiness of horses.
Something poured ice-cold liquid into my mouth as the hands prodded at my mostly-numb body, and I choked on the liquid as something sent a sharp spear of pain soaring up my spine. The shock was not a few seconds over when it impaled me again.
The pain was too much for my already weary body to bear; my brain forced itself to shutdown as a third jolt seared my nerves and I fell into the all too-familiar darkness.

--

Cool air and sunlight brought me to my senses.
I slowly cracked my eyes open and found to my relief that I was not yet dead. I was lying on my bed, in my own bedchambers. I had been washed and my wounds tended to, and I lay naked under a thin sheet. I blinked my eyes against the pale golden hued sunlight streaming through the pair of open windows, and when they adjusted, looked around my surroundings.
My bed was positioned on the right of the small room, a large window behind my pillow -and its brother on the left wall- pouring strips of sunlight over my prostrated form and spilling it onto the large rug on the wooden floorboards. My small silver washbasin and looking-glass were placed on a large chest of drawers in the left corner of the room, the door leading to the living room on the right.
The bittersweet smell of freshly hewed pine drifted lazily through the open windows towards my direction, and I steadily breathed in the fresh aroma. My lungs, unaccustomed to such a thing, rejected the air, causing me to cough heavily. My body racked with the force and threw my pain once again into sharp relief. When the coughs subsided, leaving me feeling drained and beaten, I decided to take a look at the damage inflicted on my body.
I took a slow, calming breath and lifted myself up onto my elbows. The thin cotton sheet that had been covering me slipped down to my hips and what I saw made me wish I had not moved. As I had sat up, the raspberry-black surface of a large diagonal scab to the right of my navel had cracked and split, and a putrid yellow substance was leaking from the fissure, to dispense warmly down my side.
My head grew light and my thoughts swam before I flopped onto my back to keep from fainting.

--

The man tucked the bundle up higher under his left arm, pulling the stubborn old mule along with his right. His mother would be proud. She would no longer kick him and spit in his face, calling him a moron. He hugged his prized parcel tighter, re-living the look on the priest’s face as he slashed him in two, blood spraying his clothes and face, the smell of it in the air; and the priest’s limp corpse falling. He had grinned as he picked up the parcel that the priest was so unwilling to hand over. He had taken it, and he had taken his mule. His mother would be proud.
Oswald fingered the package as he trudged up the dirt lane leading to the farmhouse. He dared not open it; his mother would hit him and send him to bed without supper if she knew. Oswald was a grown man, but he knew he was simple. His mother would tell him everyday to stay away from the good folk of the nearby towns as he would pollute them with his filth. The sky grumbled and threatened to rain on his huddled form as he walked faster, anxious to hear his mother’s praises; and he quickly let go of the rope tied to the mule and licked his hand to wipe over his blood-stained countenance. He grinned at the taste of the coppery substance.

His mother was waiting for him in the barn when he arrived. The ugly old woman turned to face him and scowled, her clothes covered in stinking manure. She had been cleaning up the horse-stalls, a job Oswald was told to do this morning.
She shook the rake menacingly at him. ‘Where have you been? Sneaking off like that when there are chores to be done! I ought to flay you right here!’
Oswald frowned. His mother must have forgotten that she told him to go in search of some gold.
‘Don’t you frown at me!’ she shouted shrilly, ‘I’m not the one who left the horses standing in their own shit!’ she peered over his shoulder at the mule, and narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Whose is that?’
Oswald puffed up proudly. ‘A priest’s. He w-was alone on the r-road and I cut him down a-and I t-took it.’
His mother’s eyes filled with panic, ‘A priest? You murdered a PRIEST?!’ she cried sharply as she came closer, wielding the rake as if it were a sword; fresh manure dripping in globs from its spikes.
Oswald filled with panic; he knew she was going to beat him. The whip-marks she made on his back last week had not fully healed, and that had not been a serious thrashing. Trembling, he held out the package. ‘B-but look w-what I found!’
He hoped it was something good, or his mother would surely strike him with that evil rake.
His mother was hard to please.
She eyed the package suspiciously before dropping the rake and snatching the bundle out of his hands. Glaring at him, she savagely rifled through the package until she found what was at its core.
Oswald leaned towards her to get a better look. She held in her scrawny hands what seemed to be a plain, leather-bound book. Inwardly, Oswald cringed. He knew that if mother was not pleased, he would be punished.
He watched timidly as his mother traced trembling fingers over a large golden symbol on the book’s jacket, and froze as she asked,
‘Do you know what this is?’
Oswald did not know what it was, and told his mother as much.
His mother nodded her small, grey head.
Silly mother, he thought, she knows I cannot read.
The old woman, carrying the book as if it were about to explode, walked slowly to an old wine barrel in the far corner of the barn where she lifted a panel from the wall, and placed the tome in its depths.
Oswald smiled. The hidden cupboard has been most useful for hiding extra cash when the tax collector came.
His mother shut the panel viciously and rounded up on him.
‘Why did I have you for a son?!’
Oswald’s curiosity about the strange book died with his smile. He knew the look in his mother’s eyes and didn’t like it.
‘Why did I have to be the one who had a retard instead of a prince?’ She stepped dangerously closer, and Oswald backed up against a wall.
“Why was I cursed to look after you, when your bastard of a father ran off every night to his whores in town?’ her face screwed up in disgust, ‘I should have killed you when you were born!’
Oswald threw his mother a horrified look, but this only heartened her efforts to abuse him.
She sneered and continued; ‘Oh yes… don’t think I didn’t want to. As soon as I saw you I knew you would be a complete waste. It was your father who wanted to keep you.’ She nodded to herself, as if deciding something she had long been considering. ‘Yes, if I had it my way, you would have been left outside for the heathen Gods that spawned you!’
She picked up the rake again and continued towards the large, huddled form of her challenged son.
Oswald shielded his head under his arms. His mother was not pleased.
He knew what was coming.

--

I awoke with a jolt of pain. I had been having the strangest dreams lately, overflowing with images, and sounds of people going about their day-to-day life, but for some reason this dream was disturbing. This ‘Oswald’ and his mother had never before visited my night-visions, and they scared me for a reason which I do not know.
I had been confined to my room for the past two weeks to heal and rest.
My wounds had almost healed, but the pain still had not dissipated, and Braccada gave me a mix of poppy seeds to take every night before I slept, to numb the pain. The only thing that is wrong with that are the dreams the poppy brings on.
I had always had realistic visions, but the poppy had been increasing the feelings, reactions and emotions I have towards the dreams, causing me once to wake up, in a panic, my face wet with tears. I cannot remember much of that particular dream, other than the fact that someone passed away, and left someone somewhere alone.
Forever alone.
I had tried to tell Brac that I would rather live through the pain than one of those horribly emotional dreams, but he strictly refused to be part of any such nonsense, and told me to shut up and drink the syrup.

I thought about the errant incident that almost cost Braccada’s and my life. That was around four years ago, and I was no closer to understanding what had happened that fateful day. It was a few weeks until my sixteenth year, and Brac had been making the preparations, along with other fathers, for the celebration. I have heard that in other Kingdoms, one is not required to hold a celebration of manhood for their sons, but I could not understand why. The celebration is an excellent chance to meet new people and gain knowledge in which career you choose to pursue.
I grinned at my thoughts. I would probably be a soldier like Lucien.
Lucien was in the celebration held last year, and there was said to be quite a few masters interested in the burly, sandy-haired teenager, including the shipmaster, who had been looking for a strong boy to help cut and move wood for construction. Luc was the obvious choice. Much to the dismay of the shipmaster, he had been enrolled into Army-training in less than five minutes of the official opening.

I sighed and hoped I wouldn’t be bombarded with suggestions to become a woodcutter or a stonemason. Physical work appealed to me, but I could not spend the rest of my days carving ships and statues; I needed something to stimulate my mind as well as my muscles.
Owlishly blinking the sleep from my eyes, I stood up slowly, letting the blood run naturally through my veins. I walked over to my chest of drawers carefully, taking my time to make sure the scab on my stomach would not pull or crack. The last time the latter had happened, had resulted in me falling to the floor in a dead faint, and Braccada going into a furious panic about my physical well-being.
I had recited all I remembered from the incident that caused the gash to Braccada, on my first awakening.
Lucien and I had been hunting in the forest for rare birds, when we decided we would have much more success if we split up. Lucien had departed for the North, and I had gone East. We had agreed on meeting at the forest entrance before sundown, no matter what we were doing.
Upon searching for a few hours, I came upon a purple and green bird of which I had never seen the likes of before. As I was stringing my bow, the bird fluttered wildly into the trees, and something on the other side of the clearing caught my eye. A boar. I had no idea what a boar would be doing this far into the forest, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out.
I had started to run back the way I came when the boar charged at me.
I managed to get a few running-shots at the boar, and -miraculously-  hit him in the shoulder. However, this only aggravated him all the more. He soon caught up with me and I turned around just in time to be slashed with one of his tusks.
I fell to the ground in pain, the adrenaline fading quickly from my tired body, and he decided to trample me before trotting off from whence he came, -presumably in pain from the arrow in his flank.
After relating my story to him, Braccada (after he made sure I was alive and well) decided to take some friends and make a hunt of the wounded boar; as he felt the need for the ancient ways of vengeance. Search he did.
He found the boar alive with a festering arrow wound, and slaughtered it on the spot.

After splashing refreshingly cool water onto my face, I started to wipe the droplets off my skin, and stopped as my gaze wandered over a small wooden figure on the chest-top.
It was the famous depiction of Sir Roman that Braccada had carved for me a few years ago.
When I was younger I had dreamed of being Sir Roman, the most well-known and revered of all Generals in ancient history. Sir Roman had united and lead the armies of Caltonia into a single catastrophic combat with our foreign enemies, the Bellarunians, that would forever seal our independence.
I had dreamed of sitting high on my war horse, my silver armour glowing in the light of the setting sun, and the banners of Caltonia held by my comrades snapping in the evening breeze. On my word would hundreds of thousands of men charge headfirst into a battle that would prove fatal for most, but would ultimately protect our land and future.
I smiled bitterly at the awesomeness of such power.
Power so ultimate that it could only end in the wielder’s fatality or psychosis, neither of which greatly appealed to me.
As it had happened, Sir Roman had died from his wounds in that war, but not before wiping out the threat to our nation. He was rightfully a hero and a legend.

I finished my task of drying and gingerly pulled a shirt and trousers on, before stepping out into the living room. I narrowly missed falling over a large roll of parchment that was left on the floor outside my door, causing me to yelp with fright.
I looked up angrily. The room was littered with paper, and several bulky forms sat communing at the dining table, which was also covered with various bits of parchment, and what looked like pictures of the main streets of Arin.
My inopportune and embarrassing noise attracted glances from the meeting-goers, and one by one they fell silent as they noticed, -and were surprised by- my appearance.

The uncomfortable stillness was gratefully broken as Braccada came sauntering out of the kitchen looking disturbingly pleased about something. He seemed to noticed the general lack of noise, and looked up to find me appraising him with interest.
He looked strange to me, out of his General’s uniform, as I usually saw him wearing it in the morning as he got home, in the evening as he left for his post, and sometimes during the day, when he would be called on an emergency.
Today he looked extraordinary.
His usual hairstyle of shoulder-length shaggy brown hair had been swept up austerely into a warrior’s tail, and tied with a red sash that fell to his waist; which was also swathed in an identical sash, the tails of which cascaded like a smooth crimson waterfall down his left leg. He was cleanly shaven, and was wearing his best pleated cream shirt and charcoal trousers. All in all, he was quite striking.

As I was pondering why he would be clad in such formal attire, he seemed to grasp my presence, gave me a short, surprised look, and moved swiftly across the littered room towards me -crimson tails flying behind him; and ushered me back inside my bed-chamber.
I stepped hurriedly into my room and as I turned to ask him what in Pepin’s name was going on, he promptly shut the door inches from my nose.

--

Arismath.
The day had come.
I stretched languidly and blinked at the sunlight streaming through the windows. Tonight was the celebration, and I was ready for it. Independence is not a huge deal to most people, but I wanted it more than anything. Braccada was as lenient as the next man, but it’s an entirely different kettle of fish when you are able to do what you want, when you want.
I yawned heartily and went outside to the wash-house.
I was surprised upon arrival, to find Braccada occupying one of the two tubs set beside one another, his eyes closed, soaking in steaming water that smelled of lavender.
I grinned foolishly at the thought of Brac smelling like lavender. Imagine what his soldiers would say if…
‘I know what you’re thinking boy, and I wouldn’t if I were you.’ Came the  soft growling voice of my step-father. My grin grew wider.
‘And you can stop that foolish grin of yours. You’re getting the lavender treatment too.’ Now it was his turn to smile as he opened his eyes and saw mine slowly fade.
‘I’m what?’
‘You’re getting the lavender treatment, as I’ve come to call it. Old Beaterman decided that we need to look -and smell- our best today. So throw that awful shirt to the wash, get your scrawny behind in that tub, and stop looking at me like that.’
I shut my mouth that was hanging open, and deciding that repartee would just make things worse, set my resolve to getting undressed quickly and getting in the tub while it was still hot.
After removing the offending clothing, I slowly sank into the tub’s perfumed mass of steaming liquid and sighed with pleasure.

The smell of lavender was overwhelming at first, but it began to dull my senses and soon it gently lulled me into a blissful nap.
I awoke with a splash when Brac decided it would be fun to throw sponges and other assorted wash items at my sleeping form.
This prompted a full-scale water fight which lasted until several minutes later, when the door burst open to mark the appearance of Mrs. Beaterman, friend and grocer of our household.
She took in the soaked room, our depleted water supplies, and our soap-covered surprised looks all in one swift glance, huffed haughtily, and hobbled slowly inside- careful not to slip on the drenched floorboards.
Brac lowered his raised arm that had presently been made ready to fire his ammunition of sponges at me, and I sank lower into the tub for decency’s sake.

Mrs. Beaterman placed the paper-wrapped parcel that she was holding onto the only part of the towel-table that wasn’t wet, and taking one last look at our quite humiliated countenance, hobbled back out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
I stole a glance at Braccada and he looked back, before we both erupted with laughter that could -in all probability- be heard for miles around.

--

I was washing my back as Braccada lit up a cigar and puffed at it dreamily.
‘You know boy, tonight is a very special occasion...’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’
He continued on as if I had said nothing.
‘...yes, tonight is the only chance you get to drink as much as you like and get absolutely inebriated, act like an ass, insult the whole town, wake up next to whoever you want, and still get away with it.’
He caught me by surprise and I laughed as he puffed away at the tobacco-stuffed roll, his feet resting out of the water, and crossed over the lip of the tub.

‘I have a feeling you’ll be pleasantly surprised tonight.’ He said suddenly.
I looked up at him and started to wonder about the strange meeting that had occurred the two weeks before.
‘Dare I ask why?’ I inquired carefully.
He grinned wolfishly. ‘You dare not. And besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your surprise.’
I rolled my eyes and decided that if there was one thing that Braccada could do better than others, it would be his ability to keep a secret. The man was just so damn stubborn. Usually any attempt to get information out of him would just lead to satirical abuse, at the inquirer’s expense.

I was suddenly aware of the fact that the bath water had grown cold, and decided that now was as good a time as any to get out.  I stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around my loins, and curiously went to see what Mrs. Beaterman had left for us.

I heard a sloshing sound as Braccada was interested too, and soon he was looking over my shoulder.
‘Well go on then, open it!’ he exclaimed impatiently.
I folded my loin-towel into itself then reached over the table with both hands to unwrap the paper parcel.
I pulled the string and the paper fell away to reveal a beautiful white cloth. No, not cloth, I thought to myself, and lifted the material up for closer inspection.
The shirt was pure white, with the arms from the shoulder down puffed and crimped slightly, and was incredibly soft to the touch. I ran my fingers over it and marvelled at its fineness.
I put the beautiful shirt down on the paper, and gaped in awe at the next item
It was the most incredible vest I had ever seen.
It was jet-black, and had a soft-velvety feel to it. Each button down the centre was a  disk of ivory, and each featured a sea serpent coiled serenely around the letter ‘D’.
I tried not to put the vest down as I quickly looked at the next items in the package.
A pair of Black trousers, to match the vest, and a long white silk sash to finish it off.

I glanced at Braccada behind me, and I knew the grin on his face.
‘These are mine?’
His grin grew steadily. ‘Well they wouldn’t fit me.’
I looked back at the items and mulled things over.
‘They’re for tonight?’
Brac snorted and went off to dry himself.  ‘Obviously…’
‘Did you..?’
‘Look, do you want them or not? And does it really matter who bought them?’
I smiled at his impatience. ‘No, I guess not.’ I surreptitiously wondered how much this outfit had set his savings back, and promised myself that one day I would repay him for all he had done for me.

I dressed carefully and slowly, savouring the first feel of the soft material against my skin. I had put on the trousers and the shirt, and was buttoning up the ivory disks of my vest as I turned to witness Braccada staring at me. ‘…what?’
My stepfather blinked and said in wonder, ‘By the Gods, you look like your mother.’
The shock must have inadvertently shown of my face, for he shifted his eyes and began to tie the crimson sash around his own waist.
My mother. There are not many times I can recall Braccada speaking about my mother, it seemed too much of a painful subject for him. Dying for knowledge of her as I was, I knew not to ask him, for fear of upsetting him.
Grief never dies, it just fades; and I do not think it has faded yet from the man before me.

--

I was in my bedchamber trying to tie my sash when I noticed it wasn’t plain after all. On the tail of one side, in cream thread so fine you wouldn’t notice it unless you were close, was embroidered the depiction of a large eagle, with outstretched wings, about to catch its prey in its sharp talons.
I did not know the meaning of this symbol, but was disrupted from my musings when Braccada, fully decent in his formal attire came into the room, tut-tuting loudly.
‘You don’t do it like that, here, give it to me.’
He pointedly lifted my arms out of the way and began wrapping the white silk around my waist. He tied it off loosely, and wrapped the tails over each other, so that the white eagle was facing the outside.
He smiled at a job well done, before he saw the state of my hair.
‘Aemilia’s love boy, what is wrong with your hair?’
I shrugged before turning to glance at my reflection in the looking-glass.
The ear-length locks of my hair stuck out all over my head like glossy black tendrils, reaching out for some sort of refuge. Or a comb, perhaps.
I smiled and turned back to Braccada’s curious expression.
‘I guess it didn’t like the lavender.’
‘Ahh,’ Brac deliberated. ‘No problem, I have just the thing.’
He disappeared out of the doorway, only to reappear seconds later with what looked like a bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a comb in the other.
I looked at the bottle with mingled curiosity and attentiveness.
‘What’s in that?’
‘Just a little something I whipped up for occasions such as this…’
Ye Gods, I thought, not another one of his experiments.
‘I’m not sure if I want to do this,’ I said warily.
He gave me a wolfish grin and said quite plainly, ‘Too bad, ‘cause I’m gonna do it anyway.’
I cringed as he pointed to the bed, but I succumbed to his wishes and sat down.
He went to the washbasin, poured some of the liquid from the bottle over the comb, and quickly came over to where I sat.
I closed my eyes, expecting something unpleasant, but all I felt was the comb dragging through my hair, and a distinct smell of almonds.
‘Is it working?’ I asked curiously.
‘See for yourself.’ He stopped working, handed me the comb and stepped out of the way.
I stood up to view my reflection, and I was thoroughly shocked. It had actually worked. My hair was smoothed back, and now shined sleekly, as if it had been buffed with polish.
I turned to smile at my stepfather, but found I was alone. I shook my head. There’ll be no living with him after this, I thought to myself supremely.

--

Lucien thumped his mug down on the table, hooting heartily at his own crude joke.
I jumped out of the way of the falling droplets of ale –not wishing to soil my new clothes, and laughed with him.
We sat on one of the makeshift tables sets that were strewn across the party field, under the merrily twinkling stars of the black night sky.
In the centre of the field a band of musicians and bards played merry tunes that lifted the spirits and lowered the self-consciousness of the party goers, causing them to dance happily across the grass,  and around the lantern poles that had been set up for extra lighting.

I noticed Braccada talking with a friend at a table of women in hysterics, and when I caught his eye he winked and waved at me. I grinned foolishly at him and took a swig of ale. When I set the mug back down and looked over the field, a pretty girl with long raven hair caught my eye as she danced and twirled with her partner. Ami.      She was still one of my closest friends, but she now had curves in places that caught the average male’s interest.
She noticed my attention and smiled as she twirled happily around a lantern.
When the song finished and the jubilant audience applauded the bowing bards, she departed from her dancing partner and headed across the field towards our table.
Lucien discreetly left to “fetch more ale” and I frowned after him. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone with Ami. Women don’t usually intimidate me, but Ami had the candidness and attitude of a male, having spent all of her free time with us since childhood, and I was still not sure how to act around her.

She was short or breath as she stepped up the small slope that encircled the party field and slumped down next to me, reaching for my mug.
She took a few gulps before slamming it on the table, and exclaiming something that sounded like;
‘Fwoarh! Great night, innit?’
I smiled at her and nodded, ‘Sure is. Who was that you were dancing with?’ I nodded towards her would-be dancing partner, who was now chasing a blond girl around the people huddled at the enrolment table, ‘I don’t think I’ve seen him before.’
She shook her head serenely, her loose hair swaying gracefully back and forth.
‘Who, Eric?’ She gave a snort of laughter, ‘No, he’s from the South. He’s only here in town for the celebration. His brother lives here, and is also being commended tonight. She eyed him chase the blond girl over the grass and laughed as he knocked a beer over an unfortunate snogging couple. ‘Looks like he’s having fun though.’
She eyed me appraisingly. ‘You do look awfully handsome tonight,’ she admitted, before adding, ‘Will you dance with me?’
I was glad for the cover of darkness as I blushed. I didn’t know how to dance. Braccada had tried to teach me, but two men dancing is awfully distracting and we usually ended up on the floor in hysterics. I told her as much and she grinned.
‘Come on then, I’ll teach you.’
‘But  I….’ My pleas were cut short as she stood up, grabbed my hand, and hauled me out of my comfortable seat. She pulled me along behind her like an unwilling puppy, and we passed Braccada’s table of shrieking women.
I closed my eyes and hoped that they had not noticed, when I heard one woman say,
‘Ooh look Braccy, there goes your youngin, off with a lass!’
This observation caused the whole table to turn and watch Ami trudge past with me in tow.
‘Doesn’t look like he enjoys it that much.’ Stated one of the younger ladies.
‘Yeh, looks like a lost puppy,’ added another.
‘Ah, ye wait till later on. If ‘e’s got stamina like this one ‘ere –she indicated my stepfather with a wave of her hand- she’ll be following him around like a lost puppy,… eager fer a bone!’ chimed in one of the other ladies, causing the whole table to erupt with laughter, including Brac who turned and gave me a sly wink as my face grew redder by the second.
We gratefully passed the table that was making more crass suggestions about my person, and weaved through to the core of the assorted twirling colours of dancers.

Ami stopped suddenly and turned to face me.
‘OK. Lesson one.’ She said comically in her best Master Guylian voice. I smiled at her and noticed that she too, had been blushing.
She stepped closer towards me and picked up my left hand, placing it comfortably in her right, entwining our fingers.
‘Now, if I step here,’ -she indicated by side-stepping to her left- ‘…you step here.’ Ami pushed me slightly to my own left, and I nodded.
‘Right. And, a-one two three, one two thr.. no no no, not like that!’ She exclaimed impatiently, as I had apparently put my left foot forward instead of my right.
I sighed heavily, ‘This isn’t going to work. I told you I can’t dance.’
‘Nonsense,’ She said haughtily. ‘Just watch my feet and do the opposite.’
I cringed but obeyed my partner, watching her feet and doing the opposite.
Right foot, back, left foot, back, change hands, right foot, back, left foot ba… oh bollocks!
I was just getting the hang of it when I glanced up to see Braccada’s entire table staring at me with frank interest and smirks on their faces, and I had stumbled over a couple behind me, causing me to crash to the ground with the male of the said pair, and we both now lay on the grass laughing heartily at our own misfortune.
The crowd around us started to chuckle also, and soon everybody was dancing again. To my relief, Ami helped me back up on my feet.
I grinned at her vexed expression and asked calmly, ‘Shall we try again?’

We danced for hours under the starry night sky, sometimes changing partners with the couples around us, and I found I had picked up the art of movement quite rapidly. I was now dancing faster and faster, much to the relief of Ami, who I noticed looked incredibly proud at the fact that she had taught me to dance. I was breathing hard and grinning when I dipped her at the end of the song, and she slapped my shoulder playfully as I held her there, her head almost touching the grass.
‘Let me up you big ox!’
‘Not in a million years, Miss Amiliana!’
Ami gasped and started to wriggle which made me grin wider. She hated her full name, and was not going to let me get away with it.
She swiftly kicked me in the shin, and I stood up straight with a cry of pain. In standing up, I had also inadvertently released her from my grasp.
She pushed me away from her and grabbed my waist-sash at the same time, causing it to come free, and she wrapped it around her neck as she looked at me innocently.
‘Give that back!’ I demanded, massaging my throbbing shin.
‘No, I do not thing so Mr. Winter.’ I frowned at her and she added, you’ll have to come and get it.’ And with that, she took off as fleet as a deer, in the opposite direction.
I cursed under my breath, and decided I would have to get that sash back, chase or no.

--

Braccada chortled at the latest joke from the collection of intoxicated persons at his table, and glanced over at his son, dancing magnificently with his raven-haired friend.
His heart filled with mixed emotions as he eyed Dain, spinning his partner perfectly and dipping her elegantly as the joyful song ended. It filled with sorrow at the thought of letting the boy go. He didn’t want to, and yet he knew he must. His heart also overflowed with joy over the fine man he was turning out to be. He would be proud of Dain, no matter how his story ended, or where fate would take him.

A man in a long black cloak who Braccada noticed had been watching Dain the entire evening, bowed in response to his polite nod, and turned to leave.
Braccada sighed. He would have to tell the boy someday, but not now.
Not now.

--

I chased Ami’s swirling skirts through the moonlit streets of Arin, and soon found myself at the docks, with no sight nor sound of her.
I knew where she would be.
As children, Luc, Ami, John and I would sometimes go to the secluded warehouses of the harbour, and play there until sunset.

I slid through the warehouses as silently as a cat, and came to the end of the road, where a grassy hill lead down to the rocky shores of the Coastal Seas.
As I looked out over the glossy coat of the ocean I heard soft footfalls behind me.
‘I knew you’d be here.’ I said quietly.
Her voice floated softly over the breeze, ‘That was the point...’
I was a little more than surprised. I thought we were playing a game, and I just wanted to get my sash back; but as it turned out,  she had more than that on her mind.
I turned to see her smiling at me, running the precious silk through her fingers.
I raised my eyebrows as she moved closer and stopped with a jerk.
‘You may think me forward, but I’ve wanted to do this for a long time…’
And she quickly came closer to kiss me full on the mouth. My eyes flew wide and I blushed like crazy. She was right, I did think her forward.
She stepped back, with a triumphant look on her pretty face, and cast her eyes downward.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. Heavens above, I couldn’t think at all. Instead I just opened my mouth and said the first thing that came to mind;
‘Could I have my sash back now?’
She snapped her head up and glared at me indignantly, before realising that I was grinning again. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
‘On one condition…’
I raised one eyebrow and asked carefully, ‘And what might that be?’ Although in truth, I already had a pretty accurate idea.
She smiled, and grasping the glowing white silk with both hands, looped it over my head and pulled me down to kiss her once more.

--

Braccada had told me many tales of a night like this, what to expect, what to do, and what to watch out for; but nothing could prepare me for the emotional impact of the act itself.
I rolled over onto my stomach and lifted myself onto my elbows.
The moon cast silvery light through the window of the warehouse and onto our exposed forms as my eyes traced the contours of Ami’s back.
She slept soundly on her stomach, every now and then giving a small whisper of breath to signify a deep and well-earned rest.
I picked at the fraying edges of the blanket we were lying on to occupy myself.
Whenever Braccada had spoken of the act, he had always spoken of it in relation to love and respect. Love and Respect.
Did I respect Ami? Yes. Did I love her? No.
I felt shamed that I had used her in such a manner, but when she had offered her flesh so willingly, who was I to refuse? How could I refuse?
Love is fickle, I mused. I did not love her, and was glad of it.
I have seen much wiser folk than I swim in the river of love, with beauty and happiness that flows plentiful; but I have also seen them drown in it.
If Ami loves me, -which I doubt- there is nothing I can do to save her from that decision. I however, would not be another victim of the rapids that come shortly after the smooth current…
I would keep my feet on the stability of land.

--

We talked, napped, and made love until dawn.
When the sun rose, casting golden rays over our warming flesh, we decided to head back into town.
The celebration had not yet ended, and drunken citizens still weaved their way from tavern to tavern, singing loudly and laughing merrily.
When we arrived, fully-dressed and presentable in Main Street, Ami handed me back my precious sash.
‘You did good.’ She said politely.
I bowed and kissed her hand humorously. ‘Milady.’
She grinned and curtsied before turning and heading in the direction of her home, occasionally turning around and smiling at me, or greeting people she knew in the street.
I smoothed my rumpled hair back and re-tied my sash as Braccada had done the day before.

As I walked through the busy streets, the sun on my neck, I tried to wipe the goofy grin that had crept onto my face off, before someone should guess my secret.
Too late.
I heard a  bark of a laugh behind me, and turned to see Lucien, with a pretty girl on his arm, saunter out of a tavern, and head straight for me.
Oh sh-
‘Well hello there ye auld rogue. And just where were you all nigh’? Me an’ Trixie ‘ere were lookin’ for ye all over!’ He indicated the girl’s presence with a short flick of his hand.
He then turned to look at her and added slyly, ‘Well,… maybe not all over.’
I tried not to smile. ‘Did you search all over the beds?’
‘Aye..’ he said with a wink, ‘…that we did.’
I snorted. ‘Then you wouldn’t have found me. I wasn’t pre-occupied with a bed last night.’
Lucien suddenly became interested.
‘Go on Trixie, off with ye now.’ He directed at the girl, slapping her behind as she squealed and left for the tavern they had previously exited.
‘You were saying?’
‘Was I?’ I retorted, heading for the party field.
Lucien caught up with me and grinned like a maniac. ‘Oh it’s like that aye?’
I licked my lips to keep from smiling, and steeling my resolve, said quite firmly, ‘What’s like what?’
The buffed teenager raised his eyebrows. ‘Who was she?’
‘You know, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you know where this conversation is going?’
‘HA! Well alright then. If you want to play that game, we’ll play that game.’
‘And what game would that be?’ I innocently asked him, crossing the grass to my now-flat mug of ale, still sitting in the place where I had left it.

Lucien slumped down at the table next to me and looked over at the musicians still playing from the night before, although there would be a note missing here and there, and the singer had long since fallen asleep in her chair.
‘You can tell me, you know…’
I smiled and thumped a hand on his shoulder.
‘I know.’

--

We left the party field separately, each seeking our own beds and a few precious hours rest.
It was only when I started walking up the dusty path towards the cottage when I realised I had not even perused the job-openings. I cursed myself under my breath. All of the worthwhile openings would now be taken, and I would probably become a soldier after all. Nothing was wrong with that of course, but I liked to have options.

I walked in the front door to find my stepfather half comatose at the table, his head was turned away from me and his sash had been removed, leaving is hair to be displayed wildly over the wood. I thought I heard a soft snore coming from his direction.
As I quietly stepped in and shut the door, there came a sleepy voice from across the room.
‘…mnormshutzor…’
‘Sorry?’ I asked, thoroughly confused.
He turned to look at me, his eyes half closed, and rubbed at his face with his hands.
‘Izzaid, dnot shut zdoor…’
I re-opened the door and watched him rub at his face again.
‘Izink my faze izznum…’ He slowly stood up and hobbled out of the back door, and following a loud splash, came back in. His head from the neck up was sopping wet, and his hair dripped water all over the floor. I quickly fetched him a towel, and he sat back in his chair; patting his face with it.

He gave a hearty sigh and sank lower in his chair. As soon as I thought he had fallen asleep again, he opened his mouth and said very carefully,
‘Where were you last night?’
‘With Luc.’ I lied.
‘Ahh. The ever-interesting Lucien. A fine boy to be sure, but a little blood-thirsty for my tastes.’
I nodded at his accurate description. Luc was rather rough, but he was a grand individual and a great friend.
‘Speaking of last night,’ my stepfather interrupted my thoughts, ‘did you have a look at any jobs?’
I shook my head morosely. ‘No, I hadn’t the chance.’
He nodded slowly, ‘Good.’
I was surprised at this answer, and was about to ask what he meant when I realised that it was still an un-godly hour of the morning, and that the man before me had probably been up for the most of the night boozing.
‘Where were you last night?’ I asked curiously.
He tried to laugh but gave up mid-way, as his head seemed to cause him severe pain.
‘Let us just say this; never, under any circumstances whatsoever, hang around with several inebriated women near a lake. They’re bound to want to go in at some point, and that means you’re joining them.’
I frowned, ‘What’s wrong with that?’
He smiled. ‘Like I said, inebriated. They’re likely to want to swim bare-naked.’
I smirked and asked him if he joined them in the end.
‘Oh aye,…’ he said quite seriously, ‘…they threatened to disrepute my manhood if I did not.’ He open one eye and glared at me. ‘We can’t have that now, can we?’

I kept the smirk on my face, but inside my guts were squirming. My palms started to sweat as I tried to ignore the warning in his last statement, but it was as plain as day; Be careful. I had forgotten when I lied to him about being with Ami, that he usually could tell when I lied, and I had also failed to remember that he had eyes and spies all over Arin;  most of whom I would pass on the street and never notice.

He was still glaring at me with one grey eye, and I nodded soberly.
He closed his eye and sighed.
I stood up slowly and headed for my bedchamber when he said,
‘Oh, by the way, you’re starting training tomorrow to be a Best Man.’ He said this so offhandedly that I almost missed it. Almost.
I spun around to find him grinning at me with large white teeth.
‘I…..I what?’
‘You’re starting your training tomorrow.’
‘For whom?’
His grin grew considerably. ‘Lord Fale.’
I was so stunned I almost fell over. For the previous ten years my mind had been located on Lord Fale, the gentile white-haired man who I had run into all those years ago. I had not known that he was looking for a new apprentice.
‘H-how did…’
‘Sit down and I’ll tell you…’
I slumped down in a chair opposite him, and held my expression as that of pure interest, when inside I was almost literally bursting with joy.
‘Well, it started quite a few years ago actually. Lord Fale came to me one day and told me that he had met you on the street and, -do you remember that?- and he asked me if I would mind if he watched you.’
At my blank expression he elaborated, ‘Lords sometimes “watch” those they think might some day be useful, and also, they watch folk who might be a threat to them.
‘Lord Fale saw fit to watching you, and by Wofan’s balls I wasn’t going to say no.’

Braccada paused in his story and asked me, ‘Would you get me a drink? My head is thumping considerably.’
‘Of alcohol?’ I asked somewhat indignantly.
He replied with a snort, ‘Of course. What else kills a hangover?’
I sighed and left for the kitchen, as he started up again.
‘So, this is the part where we come back to two weeks ago… the meeting, if you remember?’
‘Yes I do,’ I shouted from the kitchen, pouring his ale into an old brown mug, ‘I wondered what that was all about…’
‘Yes, well you would wouldn’t you. Nosey little bugger. Anyway, I had an audience with Lord Fale that morning, and he had confirmed that he would like you as his Best Man.’
I reappeared, carrying two mugs of ale, set one in front of Braccada, and sat down with the other.
‘Just like that? He didn’t want to meet with me or test me or anything?’
‘Thanks,.. yes, just like that. Aye, it’s true I never understood it either, but what’s to understand? Everyone knows what a fine boy you are.’

I smiled and took a sip of my refreshing ale, -which had been cooled thanks to a small damp cupboard- and savouring the tiny effervescent bubbles, I nodded at him to continue.
‘Well, that’s it really. He’s sending Albert, his current best man over in the morning to fetch you for your first day.’
Suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore. Albert was the young man who had escorted me to my first day of school. ‘Albert?’ I grinned, ‘Yes, yes I remember him.’
A thought struck me that I felt I should ask.
‘What will I wear? I have nothi...’
Braccada cut me off. ‘Well you see that?’ he said, pointing at my attire.
I looked down at the beautiful set of shirt, vest, trousers and sash.
‘Yes?’
‘That’s your uniform.’
I looked back up at my guardian. ‘It is?’
‘It is. That sash you’re wearing was a gift from the Lord himself. Did you not know that the White Eagle is the symbol of the Fale house?’
I did not. I untied the beautiful silk to get a better look at the cream eagle embroidered on the tail.
He was incredible. His powerful wings were outstretched, his sharp talons spread, waiting to clutch his quarry as he swooped swiftly to the ground.
‘Well,’ my stepfather said as he stood up, still holding his mug possessively, ‘I think I’m going to go get some rest.’
He walked past me and thumped a hand on my shoulder as he did so.
‘You should get some too,’ he said loudly as he entered his chambers, ‘you’ll need all the energy you can muster for tomorrow.’