by Vinn Winters
“Whoa… that is a slanderous and twisted misquote of the inspiring speech I gave at the battle… at the battle… the battle of—”
“Frosted Fang. sir. I was your second in command. You specifically asked me to write down your speech because you ‘thought it was going to go down in history as the most inspirational war rally ever.’”
“Anyways,” Eygodon quickly said, scratching the back of his neck. “The past is in the past. I need to get my horde back. It’s time we lay siege to Beckonthrone.”
“You’re right, sir,” Tuq-tuq said, repositioning his monocle. “The past is in the past. Along with your army, which is also in the past. Your dignity… it’s in the past too. Your spell books—”
“Let me guess, they’re in the damn past!” Eygodon roared.
“Actually no… I held onto those, in the unlikely case you came back,” Tuq-tuq said indifferently.
“Really?” Eygodon replied, his eyebrows rising. “Then all is not lost.”
“Well… part of the spell books are lost,” Tuq-tuq continued. “You see, we had to tear a few pages out when we ran out of material for wiping—”
“Is at least the Dakka Mor in tact?” Eygodon said with a loud groan.
“Your most powerful spellbook? Of course it is, sir,” Tuq-tuq replied with a nod. “It is your greatest weapon. Because of that, I made sure we would save it for last. Most of the goblins suspected it to be cursed too, and weren’t comfortable putting their rear ends anywhere near cursed parchment. The Duskpetal Witch recruited your army before anyone got that desperate.”
“Good. Fetch it for me then. The absence of my army merely means that I will have to get creative,” Eygodon said with a sinister grin.
“Do you mean desperate, sir?” Tuq-tuq suggested.
“Creativity is born from desperation,” Eygodon growled. “Now fetch me the book, there is work to be done!”
“Sure thing, boss,” Tuq-tuq replied, but then paused when he noticed the nymph fastened to Eygodon’s back.
“What happened to her?” Tuq-tuq asked.
“The book. Now,” Eygodon growled.
With a quick nod, Tuq-tuq turned and rushed into one of the larger wooden huts. The clamoring of his rummaging reached the warlock’s ears.
Eygodon turned his head; Brielle was still fastened to his back. He gently touched her shoulder.
Hang in there, he thought. Now that I have the Dakka Mor, I’ll fix this. I’ll bring you back… even if I have to burn Beckonthrone to ash.
~
Vyra kept her gaze straight ahead of her as she approached the large doorway to Brightmeadow Manor’s barracks. She had passed this way often while she was doing her duties as a servant. Normally she would not even be able to catch a glimpse of the entrance; a crowd of knights chattering outside would shroud it completely. Today, however, the crowd had reluctantly parted to make a wide path for Vyra to enter. She could feel their glares burning into her skin. Their whispers were even worse.
“What foul twist of magic bewitched Lord Aldrean to take on her as a squire?” one knight murmured.
“Perhaps she’s just that good in the hay,” another knight said with a chuckle.
Vyra’s muscles tightened, but she kept her mouth shut and continued forward.
“It’s weakness if it’s true! No amount of lust would get me to take a woman on as a squire,” a third knight said, followed by a sound of him spitting on the floor.
“No, it’s clearly dark magic, she’s not even that pretty,” a fifth knight grumbled. “Kind of reminds me of my dog.”
Vyra clenched her fists but continued walking. The path through the crowd was only a short distance, yet it already felt like she had been walking down it for hours. Still Vyra refused to quicken her pace.
I won’t show them weakness, she thought. I won’t let them think they’ve hurt me.
“Don’t you see? The king has decreed that a woman cannot become a knight. She’s not even of noble blood! This is treason against the crown,” a knight hissed.
“At least our squires will have a fun time batting her around,” another knight snickered.
Almost there, just a little further, Vyra thought, gritting her teeth.
Vyra was merely feet from the entrance when it was blocked by a man wearing familiar fancy armor and a cloak.
Eygodon’s Piss, Vyra swore internally.
“When I first heard of the paladin’s decision, I thought he was suffering from a poorly crafted joke,” Radek said with a sneer. “But here you are, actually thinking you can walk through these doors for something more than emptying their chamber pots. That is the best joke I have heard in a long time.”
She heard snickering in the crowd of knights behind her.
“Let me pass,” Vyra said, straining to keep her tone neutral.
Just my luck… why does he have to be so damn tall? Vyra thought, knowing the height difference wasn’t helping her look intimidating.
“Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Radek said, taking a large step closer to her. “I’m the captain of the guard, and you’re just some little, insignificant, peasant wench.”
“And your duties are outside of the manor. Shouldn’t you be attending your post, and not wasting time on some ‘insignificant peasant wench?’” Vyra shot back, staring up at him defiantly.
She heard several knights behind her howl at her challenge.
“I hope your skills with a blade are as sharp as your mouth,” Radek snarled, stepping closer and then leaning down so his face was merely inches from hers. “My duty is to the crown. And the king says that neither woman nor scum can become knights, and you happen to be both! So I’ll make you a deal, little girl. You show us all that perky ass of yours as you walk away from this doorway, or I’ll make sure your gluttonous pursuit of glory doesn’t end with a noose. In fact, I’ll be sure to forget I ever even met you, which won’t be so hard once you learn to shut up.”
Vyra clenched her teeth. She was thankful she was not armed, because she knew exactly what she would do to him if she had a sword.
“Move aside,” Vyra said sternly.
“As you wish, little lady squire,” Radek said with a mocking tone as he stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards the door.
As Vyra moved passed, Radek grabbed her shoulder. It took all of Vyra’s strength to not strike him.
“I’d watch my back if I was you,” Radek growled into ear. “You won’t have Lord Aldrean’s protection forever.”
“Against you, I won’t need it,” Vyra said, brushing the captain of the guard aside and entering the barracks.
~
Vyra’s eyes widened as she entered the barracks for the Silverclad Knights. She had never seen this wing of Brightmeadow Manor, only servants handpicked by Lady Amberleen were allowed to clean and maintain it. A long wooden track circled in an oval shape around an arena outlined in marble. Oak doors dotted the edge of the track; each door was marked with the golden engravings of names and symbols that Vyra did not understand, with the only exception being the familiar sword and shield with the hawk and crown insignia that was the famous emblem of the Silverclad Knights. Vrya presumed that each of these doors lead to a different knight’s quarters. The ceiling in the center of the barracks pointed downwards, in the shape of an inverted pyramid constructed of glass instead of stone. The light from the sky trickled through it, casting rays of light across the arena. The grounds below had everything Vyra could have imagined for training. There were archery targets, some still filled with arrows, straw dummies for sword practice, a sparring ground, a wall with pegs that appeared to be for climbing, a small obstacle course, and weapon racks filled with more weapons than Vyra had ever seen.
This place… it’s a warrior’s dream, Vyra thought, beaming.
A clang of metal brought her attention to a man striking one of the dummies with his longsword. She watched him strike another blow, and then another, and another. His attacks were swif
t, yet were almost as graceful as if the fight were its own dance.
He was wearing a quilted, blue button-up jacket that stretched tight against his broad shoulders with each swing of his sword. What he was wearing looked closer to what he had worn in her dreams than his regular attire. Vyra breathed heavily.
She straightened quickly as he glanced in her direction.
“Vyra!” Lord Aldrean shouted, brushing the sweat from his face. “Welcome!”
“This place is amazing!” Vyra yelled back, smiling and hoping he thought she had just arrived and hadn’t noticed her watching him.
“Yes, we are most fortunate to have this place to hone our skills,” Aldrean said with a nod. “There’s a staircase to your right if you’d like to join me.”
“Indeed I would!” Vyra replied, dashing towards the staircase. She quickly took the steps down.
“Hopefully they didn’t give you too much trouble out there,” Aldrean added as she approached. “I requested the barracks would be just ours for the morning so I may train you uninterrupted.”
Well, that definitely poured oil on an already raging fire, Vyra though, cringing internally.
“Thank you,” Vyra said politely, including a smile. “That is very generous of you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Aldrean said with a grin. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for helping me out with my — er — issue.”
“Of course,” Vyra said, cringing again internally.
We’ll just leave out the part that your issue is likely from the cursed elixir I gave you, she thought.
Aldrean walked to the closest weapon rack, grabbed a short sword, and returned to her.
“Care to try it out?” he said, holding the sword to her in both hands.
Vyra gently grabbed the sword. It was considerably heavier than the broomsticks she had trained with when she sparred with Maek in the stables. It was even heavier than her dagger, yet somehow she had imagined it would have been heavier still.
“So I know it’s probably quite heavy for you, but over time I’m sure it will feel as light as a feather—” Aldrean began.
Vyra turned and swiftly connected her blade to the head of the dummy next to her. Keeping her eyes on Aldrean, she spun in place, whirling her body around, and struck the neck of the other dummy adjacent to her.
“Well… that was — er — impressive,” Aldrean said, scratching the back of his head.
Vyra silently withdrew the sword from the dummy and held it with both hands, facing the paladin.
“I’m a bit surprised,” Aldrean admitted. “I didn’t think you’d take to the sword so quickly.”
“I told you I’ve been preparing for this, both mentally and physically,” Vyra said, raising her eyebrows. “I’m serious about becoming a member of the Silverclad Knights.”
“And a knight you may yet be,” Aldrean replied, grinning as he pointed his longsword at her. “I warn you though; I will not go easy on you just because you’re a woman.”
“I expect nothing less,” Vyra said, taking a fighting stance. “And I promise when I become a knight, to protect everyone within this kingdom, including yourself when I inevitably become stronger than you.”
“Tough words, let’s witness them in action,” Aldrean said, drawing his sword back. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, Master Vyra.”
Aldrean had no sooner finished his words than Vyra was charging at him. She had made two swings with her sword before a quick counter from Aldrean knocked her blade from her hand. It clanked loudly against the floor nearby.
“Those were solid attacks, but you left your guard open with each strike,” Aldrean instructed formally. “Try again.”
“Gladly,” Vyra said as she walked over and picked up her weapon. A moment later she was dashing towards the paladin.
This time she had made three swings at him before he managed to disarm her.
“Better, but more offense as a substitution for defense is a quick path to the grave,” Aldrean lectured. “Try again.”
Well, if one tactic doesn’t work…, Vyra thought as she lifted her sword from the ground. She ran towards Aldrean with her weapon raised, but as he positioned his blade to counter, she ducked to the side and tried to flank him.
“Not bad!” Aldrean said with a short laugh, quickly adjusting his stance to stop her attack. “Not bad at all!”
The clang of clashing metal echoed throughout the arena.
~
Vyra’s sword landed a good distance away from her, stopping against the base of a dummy. The point of Aldrean’s sword poked gently against Vyra’s soft neck.
“That’s number forty-two, I believe,” Aldrean said with a grin.
“Well, I lasted a short while against you that time,” Vyra said brightly.
“Indeed, you are progressing quickly,” Aldrean replied.
“And you’re much more confident with your sword in your hand,” Vyra said, maintaining her determined stare.
“I uh, well—” Aldrean stammered. Vyra jumped back as the paladin fumbled and almost dropped his sword.
“Your confidence was there for a bit at least. I’d count that as progress,” Vyra said with a smile.
“It’s easy to get lost in the dance of the blades,” Aldrean said, briefly regaining his composure. “Just feels natural.”
“I think I’m beginning to learn that feeling,” Vyra agreed.
“Besides, you’re good enough that I guess I forgot I was fighting a woman,” Aldrean added.
“That compliment sounded more like an insult,” Vyra snapped as she walked over to grab her sword and charged at Aldrean again.
“That didn’t come out right,” Aldrean said, raising his hands as Vyra pointed her short sword at his chest. “I only meant that you have significant potential. You might indeed be one of the most talented squires in Beckonthrone.”
“That’s closer to a real compliment,” Vyra said, lowering her weapon.
“Of course, I’ve never had another squire to compare to,” Aldrean rambled, “so I only know from what I’ve seen from other squires.”
“And now it seems even less of a compliment,” Vyra stated, rolling her eyes.
“Forgive me. I am clearly not good at talking to women,” Aldrean apologized. “Hopefully you can teach me to become better.”
“You will need it,” Vyra said, shaking her head. “You’re bad enough at it that I guess I forgot I was talking to a paladin.”
“That sounded like an insult,” Aldrean said.
Vyra smirked as she raised her eyes and folded her arms.
“Oh… I see what you mean now,” Aldrean said, scratching the back of his head.
“It’s okay,” Vyra replied, her smirk growing wider. “You have significant potential of becoming a better person.”
“Thank you, Vyra,” Aldrean said, with a smile that sent warmth through Vyra. “As you train and improve to become a stronger warrior, I promise to learn and improve to become that better—”
The large doors at the barrack entrance flew open with a clang. The sound was quickly followed by the clanking of armor.
“What are these words that have reached Orbit’s ears?” a loud voice echoed through the barracks. “First, that Lord Aldrean duels a woman? Secondly, that Lord Aldrean has taken on a squire? Thirdly, that Lord Aldrean duels a woman who is his squire? Aldrean, if you purpose is to jest with Orbit, then Orbit must speak truth and inform you, that you have a strange form of humor!”
A small familiar gnome in full-plated armor walked down the steps towards the arena. He was followed by the knights Vyra had witnessed outside, though they were joined by younger men who Vyra assumed were their squires. One of them towered above the rest.
“I did not give permission for you or the other knights to enter,” Aldrean said sharply.
“And when does Orbit listen to the things you say?” Orbit said. He chuckled but stopped short when he looked at Vyra, and then looked back and forth between he
r and the paladin. She could almost visibly see the gnome warlord slowly connect the puzzle pieces. From the time Orbit had given her the autographed potion bottle that she had used to hold the Midnight Wolf’s elixir, to the time he had noticed her in the dining hall, to the time he had heard her voice in Lord Aldrean’s chamber, to now.
“Ah, you! Yes, Orbit remembers you, the servant girl from the dining hall!” Orbit shouted enthusiastically.
Well, perhaps he had not actually connected all the pieces like I had expected, Vyra thought.
“Orbit is glad to see that Aldrean finally has a squire. However, she may be requiring a bit more training before she is ready to face mine,” Orbit chucked again and gestured towards the titan behind him.
“Greetings — uh — Sir Vyra! I am Sir Modrem, of the Green Cliffs!” the tall man said. He was bulky and over eight feet tall with short brown hair.
“It is an honor, Lord Orbit and Sir Modrem,” Vyra replied politely.
“Hah! Catering formalities to a woman as if she actually has a place among our ranks, how humorous!” A large knight with a stern face, a pointy mustache, and long brown hair stepped out from the crowd. Vyra recognized him as one of the knights who had been insulting her as she entered.
“I am Lord Salderon, and this is my squire, Sir Maefus,” the large knight said with a tone of superiority, gesturing towards a smug-faced boy about her age and height, his blond hair parted down the middle.
“Sir Maefus is a real squire, not some grand contrivance to placate a whore as a reward for a satisfying night,” Salderon laughed, and some of the knights behind him followed.
Here we go again, Vyra thought, tightening her grip on her blade handle.
“You will not speak of my squire in such way, Lord Salderon,” Aldrean snarled. “I don’t care what Radek says. Vyra is a skilled warrior with great potential; she deserves a chance to contribute to the kingdom.”
“Of course, Paladin; but contribute in what way, I wonder?” Salderon said smugly, followed by another chorus of laughter.