Squire

by Payton Cavallo

  “And did he confess?” Father Gennadi looked uncomfortable under Sir Finguine’s scrutiny. The knight noticed, and pushed forward with his questioning, seeking to find the answer to who the perpetrator was. “Father Gennadi, if you know anything, you have to tell me. Please, it could help us with our investigation.”

  “You wish for me to tell you things that were confessed to me, that someone trusted me with, knowing that I would not talk?” Father Gennadi narrowed his eyes at Sir Finguine. “Confessions are deeply personal, things that they would tell no one else. What he spoke of is between him, me, and Miion. I will not speak a word of what he told me.”

  “Father, it is of dire importance that we find this man as quickly as possible.” Sir Finguine spoke, trying to reason with the man, but it looked like Father Gennadi would give no ground. “Fine you don’t have to tell us exactly what he said, but give us something. We’ll find him, bring him in for questioning, and if he’s innocent, he’ll be free to go. It’s that simple.”

  “fine.” Father Gennadi relented as his brown eyes took on a distant look, as if recalling a conversation he had long ago. “It was about a month ago. The sermon had just ended, and it was a beautiful one, speaking of the protection Miion and Sviatoi have granted us. Damir always sat in the back row, not many willing to sit beside the boy because he was…strange.”

  Sir Finguine raised an eyebrow at that, his look egging on more information from the Priest.

  “The boy had issues regarding his heritage. He never told me what they were specifically, but he would slip up when he confessed to me, and he confessed often. It was this combined with his age that lent more credibility to his illegitimacy.” Priest Gennadi shook his head. “What a disgrace that mess is. What hubris to believe that each human child brought into the world isn’t a miracle of Miion. If only that fool Abim hadn’t started the Illegitimate War long ago in his bid for the crown, we wouldn’t be in this-“

  “Focus, Father Gennadi.” Sir Finguine said. “I need to know more about Damir. Focus on him.” Craeft noticed the knight tapping against his chair, a dull thud emanating from where his finger touched the mithril armor. He must have been losing his patience, Craeft thought.

  “Ah yes, my apologies.” Father Gennadi coughed into his hand. “My mind tends to wander, and my mouth follows it,” A small grin played across his face, “Anyway, he would come and confess to me after every service. Like clockwork, as soon as I was finished, he would ask for time alone with me, and I granted it. At first, he was wooden. He would barely speak, seeming to be uncomfortable with any human contact whatsoever. I believe he may have been isolated from his peers due to his heritage.”

  Craeft let out a shuddered breath at that. The way he spoke of Damir, it was like the man was talking about himself. A bit of bitterness welled up in his heart, egging him on to speak, but he forced it down. It was not the time to be interrupting them, not when they were speaking of matters so sensitive as this.

  “Then, he began to open up. Bit by bit, he’d come to the room I have set up for confessions or counseling and he’d tell me more and more, but most of it was things I had already guessed due to his heritage. Grew up in an orphanage, rough life from childhood, seeing the nobility as the source of his issues and a host of other problems.” Father Gennadi shook his head. “But, after a while, it started getting strange. He just had an aura about him, like he wanted something and would do anything to have it.”

  “Any specifics?” Sir Finguine asked. Father Gennadi looked downwards, his mouth curled into a frown as if recalling something distasteful.

  “He began to grow more…angry, but not outwardly. It was something people noticed though, as you could just feel it pouring out of him, the hatred weighing down his heart. I tried to counsel him, but it seemed to have no effect.” Father Gennadi sighed. “When we last spoke, he promised me that he would “Right some wrongs that had been done to him” as he walked out of the church. I tried to go after him, but he simply pushed me away and walked out. He’s attended every service, but with him not showing up these past few weeks, I began to fear for the worst.”

  “Do you think he would’ve caused the Lusus invasion?“ Sir Finguine asked. Father Gennadi seemed to take offense at the man’s words.

  “No, absolutely not.” Father Gennadi looked as if he was trying to keep passive and calm, but the anger in his eyes was barely concealed. “The young man I know would never have caused this…atrocity.” He shook his head. “He may have been a bit angry, I’ll give you that, but just because someone is mad, doesn’t mean they’ll help those soul-eating abominations into our city!”

  “And do you know where he is?” Sir Finguine asked, not being the slightest bit fazed by the man’s tone.

  “Well…no.” Father Gennadi conceded. “I have hope that he didn’t die in the Lusus invasion, but…with all the people who perished and the confusion that it brought on us, I can’t be sure. He is a strong young man, but the Lusus are vicious creatures…” His shoulders sagged slightly. “Only Miion knows if he’s still alive. And I’ll be finding out whether he is or not once the list of all the casualties is finally made available.”

  “I see.” Sir Finguine bowed his head for a moment. “Well Father Gennadi, I thank you for your time. If you have any more information, or come across any more information, call me on my talker.” Sir Finguine briefly exchanged numbers with the man, before he led his group out of the church. He took a moment to lead them to an alleyway, one devoid of people.

  “Alright. Seems that we’ll be pulling protection duty.” Sir Finguine said, leaning up against the concrete wall of the alleyway.

  “But why?” Craeft asked. “I mean, we’re already protecting the citizens here? Why would we need to protect them even more?”

  “Ah, you’re looking at the wrong citizens.” Knight Finguine explained. Craeft heard Cenric mutter “idiot” underneath his breath, the teen ignoring it as he listened to his superior. “We’ll be protecting the nobles. The Krasnolovka family run the place, hence it’s named after them, and this Lusus invasion leaves them exposed. So, we’ll make sure they’re protected and keep them from being killed.”

  “Ugh, that sounds boring.” Cenric said. “Can’t you put us on something else? Anything else? And why are we even following you when Sir Tsarsko is still around?”

  “Well, since my friend Tsarsko gave me permission to “order the little brats around” as he so eloquently put it.” Sir Finguine’s laid a hand on the squire’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. Cenric grunted under the force. “You’re either going to do what I say, or I’ll just tell Tsarsko. I’m sure he’d love to hear about your insubordination, and I’m sure your teammates would love to share your punishment.”

  Though Cenric tried to keep a brave face, Craeft could only let a small smile slide across his lips as the teen noticed his teammates glaring into his back. Deroma may have not been the bravest girl, but she looked angry enough, and Fedor looked none too pleased at the idea of sharing in his teammate’s fortunes.

  “Uh, duly noted sir.” Cenric quickly said, trying to cover up the bit of fear in his tone. He didn’t succeed very well.

  “Good.” He said simply, before stretching his arms over his head and letting out a yawn. “Well, I’ll be heading back to the hospital. Meet me back there tonight, and I’ll divvy out the guard duty between you all.” Sir Finguine sauntered off, leaving the group behind in the alleyway. With Sir Finguine gone, Cenric made to say something, most likely a taunt, Craeft thought, but Fedor stopped him as he practically dragged the boy out of the alleyway, Deroma following the two. It was only a few moments before Craeft and Veliane followed their lead, walking out of the dank place.

  “Guess we’re going to be protecting some fancy nobles.” Veliane said as she left the alleyway alongside Craeft and into the busy streets. Despite the recent invasion, things were slowly returning to normal as the people’s homes were restored and their lost ones were laid to rest. There was s
till a pervasive aura of mourning though, one that seemed to cling to everything around the area. “Hopefully it’s not as…exciting as our mission has been so far. If I never saw a Lusus till the end of my term, or the rest of my life for that matter, I’d be a happy woman.”

  “Just not as boring as the train.” Craeft replied. “Or else I may have to whip out Trials and Tribulations again.”

  “Oh the horror.” Craeft let out a small chuckle as she practically oozed sarcasm with that little comment of hers.

  They slowly walked back to the hospital, the sun setting as they arrived.

  Chapter Seven

  If Finguine were to be asked if he liked his job, he would say it certainly had its perks. Being able to travel to new and exotic locations, getting to slay Lusus, and even being able to occasionally knock a noble down a peg or two when they got too uppity. However, there were a few downsides which made him regret ever taking the job.

  The prime one was speaking to Master Berwyn.

  He sat in the empty room of the hospital, an old room that they no longer used. With the city being rebuilt quickly by the combined efforts of alchemists who removed the rubble and others who were helping, many of the people that had been healed returned home, leaving the hospital slightly less strained. So, they lent him one of the rooms to make a call in, the dingy and dusty thing blocking the noise from the hallway.

  The older knight master’s voice came through his talker, brimming with a tone that demanded respect.

  “I see. But why would I do that?” Master Berwyn asked.

  “Because we have a culprit who may or may not be trying to assassinate one of the nobles, a few reinforcements would be appreciated.” Finguine’s voice was strained, trying to stay polite. Not the fake politeness that he knew messed with the squires, the disrespect barely hidden. No, he wouldn’t use that for him, as he was sure he would cut him down like an ax to a tree if he tried that, even if Finguine hoped he dropped dead. “If we can-“

  “May or may not? Do you have any direct evidence?” He inquired. “Perhaps you’d like to be the one to explain to His Majesty why I sent more of our knights, as strained as we are, on a may or may not?” Her voice had no emotion to it, strictly professional in her mannerisms. “You know about the situation to the west. We need to clear out more of No Man’s Land of the Lusus infesting the place, and I cannot spare any more knights than what we have. You’ll need to rely on your squires to get the job done.”

  “But sir, you know that the city of Krasnolovka has recently suffered a Lusus invasion.”

  “I have.” He spoke. “But after your years of service, Finguine, you must know that the Lusus are a threat that is constant and one that cannot be avoided. Sure, it is certainly odd that a city was attacked, I’ll admit that, especially so far into the mainland. It’s been forty years since any major Lusus attack, and I for one am certainly glad that the casualties were low. What was it again, five thousand, seven thousand?”

  “Eight thousand deaths, sir.” He held back his anger, not spitting out the last word in rage at his indifference. “We can’t all be like you and blow off their deaths like it’s nothing.”

  He immediately regretted those words, as he could practically feel the angry gaze through the talker, his voice speaking faster and tighter as if he was restraining herself from personally coming there and showing him just what he thought about his comment.

  “I have been here since the Recusant Leader Bogdan nearly ruined the Empire in his bid for the throne. I have fought and bled for my country for decades, and seen entire cities and towns depopulated by that mad man. In a city of four million, I am thankful that only eight thousand perished, rather than all of them.” He clipped out. “Give it a few years. With people having so many children, that eight thousand will seem like a memory.”

  “That’s callous.” Finguine said.

  “It is the truth. The hard truth. As the commander for the knights, I must think of what benefits the empire the most and saves the most lives. My orders could end the lives of thousands of knights if I fail, something you now know with your squires, as their lives rest on your shoulders as well.” He said. “Besides, I would not try and play the moral high ground, Inquisitor. Your whole life has been dedicated to serving His Majesty.”

  Finguine couldn’t refute that, especially when his armor practically reminded him of his position every moment of every day. The dark armor he wore reminded him that he was an instrument of the king, to cut out nobles that turned away from the Empire and tried to strike out on their own. Unlike the shining silver of the normal knights, or the golden of the masters, his was meant to cloud him in the shadows, to be the dark being of the night that slipped in and cut out the cancers of rebellion that sickened the empire’s body.

  Still, he at least felt pity when he did it, as he did not enjoy having to cut down those who hadn’t had the chance to live their lives to the fullest yet.

  A sympathy that Master Berwyn didn’t seem to share.

  “I have always worked for the greater good of the Ascean Empire, but I cannot do it alone.” Finguine replied.

  “You have Sir Tsarsko with you, do you not?” He asked, though by his tone, he clearly knew. He was probably the one who ordered him to come in the first place. “He and his squires will be your backup.”

  “But-“

  “There is no more to discuss Sir Finguine.” Master Berwyn said. “We are underhanded as it is. We need knights to protect the trains, to protect the cities and towns, and to purge the Lusus off the lands to the west. Even if I wanted to send more, we are strained enough as it is pushing back the new wave of attacks from the Lusus on the western front. I cannot send any more without solid evidence of a culprit, and even then, reinforcements will be minimal at best due to the circumstances we find ourselves in. These are my orders, and as your superior officer, once I give them, I expect them to be obeyed. Am I understood?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. May Miion guide your blade, Sir Finguine.” A click was heard before the standard beep of the call ending echoed throughout the room. Finguine glared down at the phone, the carefully hidden emotions that he forced down bubbling to the surface.

  Finguine ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, before he heard a knock at the door. He turned, the door opening to reveal the grinning image of Tsarsko, the man holding a small bag in his right hand.

  “Was that the boss man?” Tsarsko asked.

  Finguine nodded, his fists clenched tightly around the talker as he shoved it into a pocket in his armor. Tsarsko let out a loud laugh, closing the door behind him as he entered the room.

  “Thought so. He’s the only one who can make you look like that.” Tsarsko leaned on the wall. “But you don’t need to worry. I’ve got a little something to cheer you up.” He dug around in the bag, the sound of crinkling paper filling the room.

  “You know I don’t drink.” Finguine said. “I need a clear head in my line of work.”

  “Oh I know, I know. That’s why I got you this,” He tossed a small bottle at Finguine, the Knight catching it in his hands. He turned the bottle around, seeing the bright pink label, ‘Krasnolovka Cola’ printed in eye-searing orange colors on the front. “a drink for someone like you.”

  “How thoughtful of you.” Each word dripped with sarcasm as Finguine rolled his eyes, twisting the cap off the bottle. With a click pop, it came off, a slight orange wisp escaping the bottle. He brought it up to his lips, and took a sip. “Ah, a nice citrus flavor. You really do know what I like Tsarsko.”

  “We’ve been comrades for years. ‘Course I know what you like.” He popped the cap of his own bottle, ‘Proudhill Ale’ printed in dark-red letters on the front. “And I know that you need to cool down after a talk with Master Berwyn.”

  “Always.” Finguine took another sip. “Seems we won’t be getting reinforcements. The campaign to the west is taking too many knights away, unfortunately. So it seems we’ll be stuck with just us and
our squires. The only other knights we have access to are guarding the wall and absolutely refuse to leave their position without orders from a Master.” He sighed, his fingers rapping against a nearby small dust covered table. “Don’t blame them really. I’d be on the fritz too with what’s happened.”

  “Tch, pussies.” Tsarsko said as he took a gulp of his ale, the smoky scent from it filling the room. “Guess we’re going to need to make do with what we got.” He scratched his chin, a wry grin on his face. “Granted, that isn’t much. I may not be a religious man, but sometimes these kids make me want to get down on my knees and pray for deliverance from them.” He took another swig. “Couldn’t get some nice quiet brats. Instead I got a little brat, and a girl who looks like a strong wind would blow her over. Fedor is the only one who I believe will go anywhere, but then again, his family is military anyway.” He leaned over. “And from what I see, your team isn’t exactly standing proud either.”

  “Oh that’s an understatement.” Finguine said, sorely wishing he could get some alcohol so he could numb the headache he got when he thought of his team. “A boy who has enough self-confidence issues to fill a mind-healer’s book with, and a girl that doesn’t even want to be here. Granted, at least they are actually good at combat, or at least Craeft is. Veliane is more defensive, and if I’m going to be honest, it looked like she was terrified when she saw the Lusus and the devastation they brought with them.”

  “Would’ve thought those videos back at the academy would’ve knocked that out of them.” Tsarsko ground out, his breath filled with the scent of his drink. “I can’t stand cowards.”

  “It was her first time.” Finguine waved the man off, taking another sip of his cola. “Those videos back at the academy, while gruesome and true to what happens during a Lusus invasion, can only do so much. Real life is far different from a video. I’m just thankful they didn’t develop any issues like shellshock from it.” He tilted his head slightly. “Still, I’ll take them to a mind-healer when I get the chance, just to make sure. They’re going to have to get used to it if they want to remain squires.”