G.L Valencia
In a Place Where There Are No Men
“He was rich enough to want anything in the world“
It had been several days since the knight and his squire had officially entered the Mercer family’s employ. For the most part, Sebastian had spent his days training and settling into his new life at the castle. However, this morning was different, and he had spent the better part of it nervously preparing for his first assignment.
Sebastian and his master would be on guard duty that day.
To look the part, he was dressed in a bright yellow pullover, with a deep fold of cloth gathered at the back of his neck. A simple leather-covered breastplate protected his chest, while matching wristguards fitted snugly around his forearms. His trousers were made from thick, tanned cloth, and a shin guard was strapped securely to each leg.
Around his upper arm, he wore a simple cloth armband bearing the seal of a knight in training. He had yet to earn his knighthood, but the distinction mattered little to most people, including the guards and attendants, who treated him with the same respect they showed his master.
With his sword secured to his belt–just as the knight had taught him–it sat at the proper height for a quick and easy draw. Edward had always stressed the importance of this, particularly when it came to guard duty.
“Being a guard is nothing like being a soldier,” he would say. “You must be ready for action at any moment, but you must also appear level-headed. If a guard looks tense, everyone starts to worry.”
He glanced over at Edward, who gave him a knowing nod in response. The two hadn’t really spoken about their vows to Lord Mercer, something that irked Sebastian. Edward seemed willing to discuss almost anything else, but whenever the subject of their vows came up, he would quickly dismiss it. Sebastian had made his displeasure at this avoidance known, but Edward had simply told him that vows were between a knight and his lord.
At the very least, Edward had assured Sebastian that his training remained a top priority, and that their work at the palace would not slow down Sebastian’s path to knighthood.
The knight and his squire stood together, guarding one of the side entrances to the main courtyard. The rest of the space was guarded by regular soldiers, stationed along the walls and beside the supporting columns. They wore the same yellow uniform as the knights, though they carried spears instead of swords. There must have been at least four dozen guards in this courtyard alone.
This was a major escalation from the security that was present when the two of them had arrived days earlier.
They had been told that Lord Mercer’s wife was returning today, accompanied by several nobles and traders from across the region. Sebastian suspected that Lord Mercer was simply trying to make a show of his household’s power, but something about that explanation didn’t sit quite right with him.
The Mercer family ruled over the largest and most powerful city in the region. So powerful, in fact, that Yarah had managed to stay completely neutral during the war. Both sides had been aware that Yarah could tip the scales in either direction, and there had been no shortage of envoys sent to win over the Mercers.
But the Mercers refused to budge, and Yarah’s army and supplies remained firmly within its borders. The city was spared the burden of sending its men off to fight, while the opposing sides remained relatively evenly matched. The war dragged on for two years, and in the end, Sebastian and his master found themselves on the losing side.
Perhaps history would prove the Mercers prudent. For the time being, however, the rest of the realm viewed them with animosity and jealousy.
After some time a pair of attendants began opening the doors Sebastian and Edward were guarding. The two stepped aside, ready to take up their new positions once the guests had entered.
Sebastian knew that the nobility had their own set of rules to follow, particularly among the multitude of lords and ladies who made up its lower ranks. Formal ceremonies demanded a strict order of entrance, with the most important person entering first, followed by their guests, then the next most important, and so on down the line.
The procession entered as expected. First through the doors was a lord by the name of Alaric Valehurst. His long grey hair was tied in a high bun, while an equally long beard hung down over his chest. He wore deep blue robes embroidered with narrow bands of yellow.
Behind him came a small procession of lesser nobles, all dressed in off-white robes. The two knights took up their places flanking the group as they arranged themselves in neat lines facing the centre of the courtyard.
Sebastian snapped to attention. Across the courtyard, a similar commotion was taking place, with more nobles filing into position and turning toward the centre.
Lady Mercer’s procession was expected at any moment, and everyone seemed eager to be seen upon her return.
Sebastian heard the shuffling of feet to his right and instinctively glanced over. Standing nearby was a rather odd-looking man who appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek, the motion twisting his features into a vaguely unpleasant expression.
Sebastian’s gaze dropped, and he realised that someone was standing between him and the man.
It was her.
The girl from the first day. Her jet-black hair obscured most of her face, but there was no mistaking her. Sebastian felt his heart quicken and hurried to compose himself before anyone else could notice.
His gaze shifted forward once more, towards the assembling nobles and guards. Both sides of the courtyard had become mirror images of each other, separated by a wide path that stretched from the main gate all the way to the centre of the palace.
However, Sebastian found himself all too aware of the girl’s presence, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t resist stealing another glance.
She stood just to his right, dressed in the same robes as the others, with a high collar and sleeves that extended past her fingertips. What caught his eye, however, was the silver pendant resting at her throat, set with a small blue jewel.
None of the other nobles wore anything remotely similar. Most favoured more fashionable pieces: thick bangles, layered chains, and elaborate drapery.
“Please stop staring,” she whispered, careful not to draw attention to herself. “You’re going to get in trouble with Lord Valehurst.”
Sebastian swallowed hard and straightened at once. Before he had time to consider what to do next, a commotion rose from the main entrance.
Lady Mercer’s procession was approaching.
The attendants scrambled into place, while the few remaining nobles shuffled into their neat little lines. Everyone seemed eager to witness the lady’s arrival, and even Sebastian had to admit that he was curious to catch a glimpse of her.
Would she be anything like her husband? Surely not. Just the thought of it made Sebastian’s chest tighten.
The main doors swung open, and a host of soldiers marched through in three neat columns. They wore the standard Mercer yellow, though each had a blue sash wrapped around his right arm.
At the head of each column marched a knight. Interestingly, none wore the Mercer yellow. Instead, they were dressed in an assortment of colours, presumably their own rather than those of any master they served.
Behind them came the ceremonial litter, borne on the shoulders of four men. Seated atop it was a striking woman. She was slender, with delicate features and an almost unsettling stillness about her. Her face was narrow yet softly rounded, with high cheekbones and full lips that seemed naturally inclined toward a faint frown.
Her hair was cut into a blunt bob that ended just below her jaw, drawing even more attention to her long, slender neck and narrow shoulders. She stared straight ahead with an almost careless composure, as though she regarded the world with a mixture of curiosity and mild disappointment.
The crowd fell silent as Lady Mercer crossed the courtyard. Every eye followed her with a reverence Sebastian had never witnessed before.
While everyone else was focused on the lady, Sebastian stole another glance at the girl beside him.
What he saw stopped him cold.
Her usual deadpan expression was gone, twisted instead into one of absolute, seething hatred.
Sebastian turned his attention back towards Lady Mercer. Her head was tilted ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, her cold eyes met his before she looked ahead again. The exchange lasted less than a second, but it had happened, and it was enough to send the visions from his vow flooding back into his mind.
He swallowed his fear and forced himself to regain his composure. He had to get a grip on himself. He was in their service now, and he would have to make the best of it. He could not afford to let his mind wander.
The next morning, Edward fetched Sebastian from his quarters before sunrise. Lady Mercer’s arrival had brought new life to the palace, with hundreds of unfamiliar faces now filling its halls.
However, Sebastian’s mind kept wandering back to the glance Lady Mercer had given him the previous day.
Had it really happened?
Perhaps she had been looking at Lord Valehurst, or maybe she had simply been caught off guard by the girl’s expression, just as he had.
Surely, there was nothing more to it than that.
The young squire barely had time to put on his gear before being hurried out into the palace gardens.
Sebastian didn’t even have time to get his bearings before Edward began pacing around the squire. “Now, my young ward, you are in the service of the greatest family in the greatest city in the land. We must make sure your skills are up to the task.”
“Master, I don’t think now is the best time for sparring. We’re getting our new assignments this afternoon, and I don’t want to be covered in bruises before we even get rostered,” Sebastian replied.
“You see, that’s the problem with squires. You train them and train them, but they never seem to grasp what it is they’re being trained for.”
Edward drew his sword. Not his training sword, but his own blade. It was long and gently curved, with a narrow edge that gleamed in the morning light. The dark-wrapped handle was long enough for two hands, separated from the blade by a small, round guard.
“Master, don’t be silly. We’re not going to duel right now.” Sebastian protested.
Edward continued to circle his squire, his sword pointed directly at Sebastian.
“It is a rare thing to decide when we will and will not fight. That privilege belongs only to the strong. To the powerful. To a knight. And you, Sebastian Rojas, are not a knight yet.”
He lunged forward. Sebastian dashed backwards, narrowly avoiding the swipe of his blade.
The squire narrowed his eyes and drew his sword, realising now that his master was serious. He shifted his weight onto his back foot and braced himself for the next strike.
Edward lunged forward again.
Sebastian raised his blade to parry, but the blow landed with enough force to jar his hands and send him stumbling backward.
Edward recovered almost immediately, taking full advantage of Sebastian’s poor footing. His second strike came just as hard, and Sebastian grimaced as he fought to catch it on his blade.
Several attendants stopped what they were doing to watch, and before long, a small crowd had gathered around the garden.
“I thought I had done right by you, Sebastian,” Edward exclaimed. “You were bloodied earlier than most.”
Sebastian stepped forward, unwilling to give his master another opportunity to strike. He swung his blade, launching into a series of quick, relentless attacks that forced the knight to dodge and weave, lest one slip past his guard.
Before Sebastian could press his advantage, Edward pivoted sharply and drove his fist into the squire’s face. The punch caught him across the cheek with all the force of his earlier sword strikes, sending Sebastian crashing to the ground.
“I thought it had made you strong. I thought it had taken away your fear of death. I thought it had taken away your fear of killing.”
Edward brought his sword down.
Sebastian barely managed to knock the blow aside as he scrambled back to his feet.
“Was I wrong, Sebastian?” Edward asked.
Sebastian refused to be baited by his master’s taunts. He wasn’t a child anymore, and it was time he proved it.
He rushed Edward again, this time meeting the knight’s strength with his own. They traded blow after blow, steel ringing through the garden. By now, a considerable crowd had gathered to watch, including several of the nobles.
The two swordsmen crashed together, each catching the other’s sword arm with his free hand. Sebastian looked straight into his master’s eyes.
Edward answered with a broad grin before driving his forehead squarely into Sebastian’s nose.
Sebastian hit the ground hard, and his master was on him almost immediately, pinning him down and raising his fist for one final blow.
Sebastian knew this position all too well. It was one of his master’s favourite lessons, though he still wasn’t entirely sure what Edward was trying to teach him.
But perhaps this time would be different.
Sebastian reached for his right hip, drew the short dagger hidden there, and drove it toward his master’s side.
Edward caught his wrist before the blade could sink in, but not quite fast enough. The tip sliced through the fabric beneath his arm, leaving the faintest smear of blood along its edge.
Not today.
Today would be like all the others.
The knight brought his fist down toward Sebastian’s face, and the squire couldn’t help but flinch.
A moment later, Sebastian opened his eyes to find Edward’s fist hovering barely a centimetre above his bloodied nose. His master held it there for a moment before gently tapping the tip of Sebastian’s nose with his knuckles.
“Boop,” he said.
And just like that, their morning training session was over.
Sebastian shoved his master aside and scrambled to his feet, while Edward sat back on his heels, laughing heartily.
Sebastian sheathed his dagger and pressed both hands to his rapidly swelling nose.
“Look what you’ve done, Master. You busted my nose!”
“I think that’s more than fair, given you tried to kill me again!” Edward replied, still cackling.
“You know that was never going to land, Master.” Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth to stem the bleeding.
“If you don’t think it’s going to land, then why try?” Edward said. “I’m not one of those tavern girls you ogle, Sebastian. You point your prick at me, you’d better be ready to finish me.”
“You’re disgusting, Master.” Sebastian replied.
Sebastian darted his eyes around at the onlookers. By now, the small gathering had grown into a considerable crowd, with several nobles joining the spectators. A look of shock spread over his face when he spotted Lady Mercer amongst them.
There was something different about her this morning. She looked just as composed as she had when he saw her arrive yesterday, but something had changed. She seemed more human, perhaps.
Sebastian couldn’t quite put a name to it, but he no longer felt the same awe and dread that had gripped him the day before. Instead, he found himself suffering from a far more mundane emotion.
Embarrassment.
His employer, one of the two most powerful people he had ever met, had just had a front-row seat to him being beaten and ridiculed by his middle-aged master.
Fuck. He thought.
His nose was still gushing like a geyser, he would need some treatment before he reported for duty that afternoon.
Edward kept laughing, even as Sebastian picked up his sword and sheathed it.
“I’m going to go get this looked at,” Sebastian said. “I suggest you do the same master, you don’t want that cut to get infected.”
He picked up his sword from where it had fallen and carefully slid it into its sheath with one hand, keeping the rag pressed to his nose with the other. He then made his way out of the garden and towards one of the hallways, blood still running down his face.
A short time later, Sebastian sat in one of the palace’s side rooms. The chief attendant who had greeted them upon their arrival had ushered him through the corridors. Sebastian’s nose had yet to stop bleeding, and the ever-dutiful attendant seemed determined to prevent another drop of blood from reaching the floors.
With the rush of the fight fading, only the throbbing pain of his broken nose remained. The attendant continued to hand him fresh towels, but the bleeding showed no sign of stopping. By now, his shirt and breastplate were covered in blood.
“Make sure you put all those bloody rags in the basket. Someone will be along shortly to take a look at you. Please try not to touch anything while you wait.”
Before the attendant could turn to leave, the door slid open, and in stepped the girl with the long, jet-black hair.
“Ah, Miss Rosaline. I see they’ve sent you down. Were none of the nurses available?” asked the chief attendant.
“All the nurses are either busy or haven’t started for the day,” she glanced over at Sebastian. “It’s rare for someone to need medical attention this early in the morning.”
The attendant nodded knowingly. “Well, get him cleaned up. We can’t have him looking like that when he receives his new assignment. No, that won’t do at all.”
Rosaline gave him a quick nod before turning towards Sebastian. As the attendant left the room, she knelt in front of him.
“Let me take a look at that,” she said.
Sebastian removed the cloth from his nose, and a small stream of blood immediately began to flow.
“Looks like I’m going to have to reset that nose. And most likely, when I do, it’s gonna start shooting blood like a geyser, okay?”
Sebastian nodded, but truth be told, he was barely listening. His attention was focused entirely on the girl and the way she examined him. Her fingertips moved gently across his face, so much so that he hardly noticed the pain he was in.
“Are you ready?”
Sebastian nodded in response.
She placed her fingers along the bridge of his swollen nose and jerked it back into position. This time, there was no way for Sebastian to ignore the pain.
“Gosh darn it!”
The words had barely left Sebastian’s mouth before Rosaline’s warning came true. Blood gushed from his nostrils, making an already messy situation ten times worse.
“Here,” she exclaimed, grabbing another piece of cloth and gently pinching his nostrils.
“Hold it here and lean forward. We need the blood to clot. Try not to swallow too much, or you’ll start feeling sick.”
Sebastian did as she asked and leaned forward. Rosaline stepped away and began washing the blood from her hands in a small basin of water.
“Thank you,” he said nasally. “I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. My name is Sebastian.”
She continued washing her hands without responding.
“Um, the attendant mentioned your name was Rosaline. That’s a nice name.”
“Alden,” she said. “Rosaline Alden. But most people here call me Rose. Only the head attendant insists on calling me Rosaline. He’s a bit of a stickler for formality, you see.”
“I noticed. Does he ever relax?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” she replied.
When she finished washing her hands, she walked back towards Sebastian, holding two small rolls of cotton that fit neatly in her palms.
“Okay, let’s see how it’s going,” she said.
Sebastian removed his hands and the cloth from his nose.
“Looks like the worst of the bleeding is over for now.”
She took the two small cotton rolls and gently pushed them into his nostrils.
“These should hold for now.” she said. “Okay now, take that breastplate off, and that shirt while you’re at it. I’ll send them down to the washroom.”
Sebastian looked down at himself. His breastplate was splattered with blood, while his yellow pullover and white undershirt were stained red.
“Dang, I’ve made a real mess of it haven’t I.” he uttered.
Sebastian removed the rest of the soiled clothing, but even with his shirt off, a considerable amount of blood still coated his chest and stomach. It had soaked through the layers and dried unevenly across his skin, leaving a sticky smear of crimson down the front of his torso.
“Ugh, look at the state of you. Why did your master feel the need to train so early in the morning?” she asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Part of me thinks he just wants me ready to fight at a moment’s notice. But sometimes I think he wants me to stop being his squire.”
Sebastian paused.
He had never actually said the words aloud before, though he had thought them often enough.
Rose gathered up his bloody shirt and stuffed it into a large sack with the other rags.
“That would explain why he beats you so badly. Maybe you’re just not a very good squire.”
“I think I’m a very good squire. Better than most, anyway,” Sebastian explained. “My master beats me every time, but from what I’ve heard, he might be one of the greatest swordsmen alive.”
“A little full of yourself, aren’t you?” she said. “That’s a bold claim to make when people have only ever seen you lose. Have you ever actually won a fight, I wonder?”
Sebastian hesitated as Rose returned with a damp cloth.
“Please raise both your arms.”
Sebastian did as she asked, before answering. “Well…” he began. “I’ve never actually lost to anyone who wasn’t my master.”
She slowly began wiping the blood from his chest. The cloth was cold against his skin, but Sebastian did his best not to shiver. It was difficult enough keeping himself from blushing under the circumstances.
“Maybe your master is the only one actually trying to beat you. Did you ever consider that?” she muttered. “You are only a boy, after all.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened.
“I’ve killed four men,” he said calmly. “I’m pretty sure none of them wanted to die.”
The girl’s hands stopped where they were. After a moment, she pulled the bloody cloth away from his chest and turned toward the bucket of water. Without saying a word, she began rinsing it out.
“I guess they probably didn’t,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of bitterness.
She returned to cleaning his chest, more thoroughly this time, though still with a certain tenderness Sebastian wasn’t used to.
“Is that why you came here? Will your master make you a knight once you’ve finished serving Lord Mercer?”
“Partly, I think. But I’m a squire, so I go where my master tells me. Once I get there, it’s usually up to me to make the best of it,” Sebastian replied.
“All right, then. Now that you’re here, do you actually want to stay?”
“Yes. I think I do.”
“And why is that?” she asked.
“Well… I think I’m in love with you.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened as the words left his mouth.
Rose immediately burst out laughing. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
Sebastian turned a bright shade of pink. “I said I think I might be in love with you.”
“Oh my gosh.” Rose laughed even harder, so much so that she forgot herself and pressed the blood-soaked cloth against her own robes, leaving a dark red stain across the white fabric.
“Do you even know what being in love means?”
“I think so,” Sebastian said sheepishly. “I want to protect you. And I think I could. I’m definitely strong enough.”
“Oh, do you now? Isn’t that something.”
There was a sudden sharpness to her voice as she stood.
“You’re not the first man to confess to me, you know. I may have only seen sixteen winters, but you are definitely not the first.”
Sebastian looked down at his boots.
“They’re all so quick to tell me things,” she continued, growing more bitter with every word. “I would fight for you. I would die for you. I would kill for you.”
She looked back at him.
“And you know what, Squire? I actually think you would.”
Sebastian said nothing.
“I think you would fight for me. I think you would die for me. I think you would kill for me. And I think you’ll only get better at it as you grow older. Just like your master before you. You’ll get better at fighting, killing and dying.”
She paused.
“But I have one small question for you, Squire.”
Rose looked straight at Sebastian, wearing that same expression of steely determination he had seen in the courtyard the day before.
“Be honest with me. And you have to mean it.”
She took a small step closer.
“Would you be kind for me?”
Sebastian stared at her.
“Would you be kind in the morning? Would you be kind before you went to bed? Could you still be kind after the first month? The first year?”
Sebastian searched for a good answer, but his insides tightened. There was only one answer he could give her.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Well then, I’m afraid you don’t know what being in love is then. And I’m sorry to tell you, I don’t think your master beating you to a pulp every morning is going to help you work it out.”
She bent down, picked up the bloody cloth from the floor, and dropped it into the sack with the others.
“Please bring that breastplate down to the washroom. I’m not carrying it for you. And stand up slowly—you’ve lost a lot of blood, Sebastian.”
With that, Rose left the room, taking the sack of bloody rags with her.
Sebastian sat quietly for a moment, staring down at himself as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
As he looked down he noticed there wasn’t one spot of blood left on him. Despite leaving so abruptly, Rose had finished tending to him fully. He looked over at his breastplate in the corner. It was still spattered with red from the morning’s training.
Sebastian pushed himself to his feet and started toward it.
His legs gave way almost immediately.
The room tilted around him, and Sebastian stumbled before crashing hard to the floor. He tried to focus on his armour, but his vision had already begun to blur.
“I’m cold,” he muttered.
Then everything went black.
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