A Squire & His Knight
“I walked through the garden, and didn’t realise I was alive yet.”
The rain had finally stopped. The knight and his squire continued walking down the narrow path, being careful not to step into any of the larger puddles that had formed.
The knight’s light blue eyes were distant, and his furrowed brow revealed that he was once again thinking about something far away. He was probably thinking about the past again, or perhaps this time his thoughts were focused on what lay ahead. It was difficult for his squire to tell exactly what he was thinking.
His master had a tendency to lose himself in thought like this. He seemed to ponder the past and future in equal measure, and even as his squire, Sebastian could only guess that he preferred life this way.
However, this did not make the young man any less curious. Did the knight prefer the weight of the past? Or was he guided by the call of the future? The only thing the squire knew for sure was that his master hated the present and would take any opportunity to escape it.
The knight quickened his pace. The grey clouds still hung low and threatened a second downpour. The town wasn’t too far away, but the path leading to it was winding and dangerous. The Bloom had turned almost the entire area into sacred ground.
As a result, they sometimes had to double back over long stretches before making any progress. The path was well marked, but that did little to make the journey less tedious. Leaving the trail however, was far too dangerous; the risk of stepping onto sacred ground was simply too great.
As a child, Sebastian had witnessed firsthand the consequences of straying onto sacred ground. He had watched one of the boys from town playing too close to the Bloom. The boy had tripped and fallen, his right hand landing just inside the sacred space.
The convulsions started instantly.
The other boys rushed over and dragged him away from the Bloom by his ankles. It was weeks before he regained proper use of his right hand.
So the knight and his squire had little choice but to take the long way around. Luckily, the rain didn’t return, and they were able to reach the town.
“Name and occupation. For both of you, please,” asked the guard.
He was dressed in the bright yellow garments of the Mercer family, with a sewn-in hood and sleeves that reached down to his wrists. He wore simple plate armour over his torso, along with shin and wrist guards. The other guards had not bothered to put on the additional protection. After all, the war had been over for well over a year, and life had settled into a more peaceful rhythm.
“I am Knight Edward Harcourt, and this is my squire, Sebastian Rojas. We are here at the invitation of Lord Mercer.”
Edward pulled a folded sheet of thick parchment from inside his jacket and handed it to the guard. The parchment was stamped with multiple seals of the Mercer family, serving as proof of its authenticity.
Sebastian’s master had received the invitation to serve under Lord Mercer a few months earlier. The letter had reached them while they were working as caravan guards out west. Sebastian had been ecstatic when he heard the news.
They had been constantly on the move for almost two years, and although caravan work was a slight improvement on war camps, he had to admit that the idea of a permanent roof over his head was quite alluring.
A palace would be an ideal place to spend the final three years of his training. Sebastian was already a war veteran and had survived two battles. All he needed now was to serve his time and refine his skills. Then he would be a fully fledged knight.
And what better place to finish his training than the eastern capital?
After checking the letter for a moment, the guard nodded and waved them into the town.
The town of Yarah was built around a set of large natural springs. At its centre stood the palace, it was composed of three enormous buildings dating from before the earth was purified. Much of the surrounding valley was free of the Bloom, giving the city access to ample woodland and farmland. Yarah was surrounded by mountains that were themselves dotted with sacred ground, providing natural protection on all sides. It had taken decades to map out the safe routes, and the locals still kept most of the shorter ones secret.
All of this meant that Yarah was one of the safest and largest cities in the region by a considerable margin. It had a population of nearly thirty thousand and was home to a large number of builders and artisans. It made sense, given that Yarah built more new permanent homes than any other city Sebastian knew of.
Most other towns and cities simply repaired whatever old-world buildings remained. Any new construction was usually semi-permanent housing, cobbled together from scrap and refurbished materials. From a distance, most towns had more in common with large camps than cities.
Sebastian looked down at his clothes, which were still wet from the rain. His bag seemed dry enough, which meant the waterproofing had probably held and he could change into his spare clothes. He looked over at his master, who was clearly in need of dry clothes as well.
“Master, do you think that perhaps we should stop at an inn to change before making our way to the palace?” asked Sebastian.
“No, I’m afraid we won’t have time for that,” replied Edward. “We should head straight for the palace.”
Sebastian looked down at his clothing again.
“There is no way that we can meet our prospective lord looking like this, Master. Just look at the state of us. We should find an inn, wash, get on some clean clothing, and go see the lord after.”
The knight looked down at his squire before replying through smiling lips. “A retard in motion is often more effective at breaking down barriers than even a genius at rest.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” the squire argued. “Just last month you told me that preparedness separates the late from the dead.”
“And the month before that I told you that expediency is a necessary evil.”
His master had a way of picking and choosing what nuggets of wisdom he imparted to the young squire. Mostly, they depended on what was most convenient at the time.
“You only said that so you could rush off with that redhead who batted her eyes at you while I had to stay back and work off the debt you had incurred because we ran out of money!”
“Well, if you recall, she was able to negotiate down our debt by about half the next morning. So, I still stand by the choice I made,” replied the knight.
“I don’t think that’s the point. I still had to work in the kitchen for three days.”
“I think that is the point. It was three days, not six, and we got free accommodation. In fact, I think the whole endeavour was so fruitful it practically imprinted the lesson in your brain, my young ward.”
Sebastian knew there was no point in engaging with his master on this. All he could do was stare at the various inns they passed as they walked through town.
The two of them reached the castle entrance. It was a large wooden door that had been fitted into the old concrete structure. It had obviously been made with a high degree of craftsmanship, and if it weren’t for the clear signs of ageing around the concrete, you would never be able to tell that the doors were at least a hundred years newer.
Most of the old-world buildings were like this. The bones of the time before, taped and bandaged with the new world.
His master had read him a few tales from back before the world was purified. Apparently, there had once been millions of people around. This had always seemed insane to Sebastian, but his master had taken him to a mountaintop during the war.
Through a spyglass, the squire had seen the vastness of the Bloom. Endless rows of buildings extended all the way to the edge of his vision. In the distance, he could make out massive towers rising high above the horizon. Apparently, people had once lived in them the way people lived in castles now.
He could see the white crosses that dotted the landscape. There were so many that it would take several lifetimes to count them all.
They were all that was left of the people from before.
Inside, they were met by a man of rather short stature. He too, like the guards, was dressed in the yellow garments of the Mercer family. The short man looked up at the two of them before extending his hand towards the knight.
“Papers, please.”
There was very little emotion in the man’s voice, and his eyes struggled to maintain any form of eye contact with Edward.
“I am Knight Edward Harcourt, and this is my squire, Sebastian—”
The short man cut in. “No need for that. I will just need your papers, please.”
Edward paused for a moment before reaching into his coat pocket again and pulling out the parchment. He unfolded it once to make sure it was facing the right way before handing it over.
“Here you go. I trust you will find it satisfactory to confirm who we are,” Edward added.
The small man gently took the paper from his hands before opening it fully to read it. His eyes darted across the parchment, scanning each handwritten line carefully. He even ran his small, stubby fingers over the wax seal towards the bottom to check its authenticity.
After a few more moments, the small man looked up at the two of them again.
“It says here that you were due to arrive two days ago. The two of you are late.”
Edward grimaced. “Does this mean that Lord Mercer is no longer in need of our services?”
The small man’s face remained mostly unchanged and annoyingly nonchalant.
“The two of you were the only ones due to be registered into service this round. All the other candidates were screened a few months back. So, it is possible that we could still process the two of you in a shorter amount of time.”
“Well, if that’s possible, could you please fit us in?” said Edward, clearly trying to get a read on the man.
“My guess is that the Lord will be all right with it. He hasn’t mentioned your absence once. It is only me who worries about the details of this place. Everyone else is too preoccupied with their nonsense.”
They were led into the main atrium. Sebastian noticed only a single guard in full gear standing watch, which struck him as odd given the much larger number they had seen at the town entrance and stationed throughout the streets.
He had expected at least a dozen, especially if they were expecting armed knights to enter the palace. After all, both he and his master were armed, and no one had so much as asked them to surrender their weapons.
As they crossed the space, one of the side doors swung open and a small cohort of people stepped out. Led by what he could only assume to be an official of some sort, the group shuffled along the wall with their heads down.
They were all wearing long, off-white cloaks, none of which were repurposed. They were clearly new garments, something that was exceedingly rare and expensive.
In the centre of the group, someone caught Sebastian’s eye.
She was shorter than the others and wasn’t wearing a shawl like the rest. The girl had straight, jet-black hair and walked with her eyes down, paying no attention to the passing swordsmen.
There was something about her that intrigued Sebastian. She didn’t appear noble, but neither did she carry herself like a commoner. The only thing that was clear was how uncomfortable she seemed.
He was certain she was muttering something to herself, repeating the same phrase over and over, but from this distance he couldn’t quite make out the words. He found himself studying the movement of her lips, trying to decipher them, when she suddenly glanced up and met his gaze.
She was beautiful. Beautiful in the way only a young man starved of life’s comforts could perceive. It was as if her face were composed of everything he lacked in that moment. Her eyes, alien in their vastness, seemed to promise a kind of sleep that might finally cure an exhaustion he hadn’t even realised he carried. However Sebastian lacked the maturity to understand what he was feeling, let alone express it.
To her, he must have looked like a starving dog. Or worse—and far more dangerous—a starving man.
She glanced away after a moment, and just like that her group disappeared into one of the many doorways.
Sebastian and his master were similarly led through a series of doors and corridors before arriving at a small waiting room with two chairs positioned in the centre.
The short man gestured for them to sit. Once they had, he stepped back out and began to close the door behind him before turning around.
“Both of you will be expected to make a sacred vow before Lord Mercer.”
Sebastian cut in. “A sacred vow? Does that mean Lord Mercer is—”
“Hush, squire,” Edward said before bowing slightly to the man. “We understand, sir.”
The man returned the bow before exiting the room. The two of them sat in silence for a moment before Sebastian finally worked up the courage to speak.
“Sir, I’ve never had to make a sacred vow before. Do we really have to go through with this?”
“Knights are expected to make at least a few sacred vows in their lifetime. True, it’s unusual for squires to do so, but it is not unheard of.”
“But this means that Lord Mercer is touched by heaven!” said Sebastian excitedly. “That explains why he is Lord of such a large city, but I’ve never seen one up close before.”
“Well then, you should be aware that Lady Mercer is also touched by heaven, and that, as far as they go, the two of them are said to be among the most powerful.”
Sebastian raised a hand to his face and wiped away a bead of sweat that had begun to form.
Two humans touched by heaven, he thought. In the same place—and married to each other, no less.
What kind of place was this?
It was true that Sebastian had never met anyone like them in person. But during the war, he had seen the remnants of what just one person with such a gift could do. It was a terrifying power—enough to shake any sane man to his core and drive any madman to his knees in worship.
“Don’t worry, there are limits to what they can ask of you. Plus, your vow will only last until you become a full-fledged knight. Just remember to keep breathing. You have to mean it. I don’t know exactly how it works, but the vow won’t work unless you believe you can keep the promise.”
“But, Master, how will I know if I can keep the promise?” Sebastian asked.
“You’ll know. Or, at the very least, your heart will. Just remember—the world has already ended, so what’s the worst that could happen?”
Sebastian hated that saying. It was a common way of dismissing any problem, but it had always made him uncomfortable.
The world has ended?
Sure, something had happened, but that was over three hundred years ago, and it sure as hell hadn’t been the end of the world.
He had buried his mother in this world. He had fought a war in this world.
Had those things somehow mattered more in the time before?
If the world had truly ended, someone had forgotten to tell the people who were still here—and who still seemed to care an awful lot about what happened in it.
No, the world hadn’t ended.
It had continued.
And now Sebastian was going to have to pledge his service to one all-powerful person—or perhaps two—just to secure a decent place to live in it.
Another attendant came by a few moments later and called Edward. The knight stood and gave Sebastian a small nod before exiting the room.
Sebastian sat alone in the room now. His master hadn’t said much as he was led away by the short man. It was typical of Edward. As a mentor, he was always quick to dispense wisdom quite consistently, but the moment things became tense or dangerous, Sebastian found his master silent more often than not.
Truth be told, Edward wasn’t the best mentor. He was a more than competent knight, proven in combat and capable as a leader. He even handled himself well enough around nobles and the upper classes.
The problem was that Edward was clearly uncomfortable with having a squire, and he wasn’t very good at hiding it. After all, Sebastian had become his ward on the very same day Edward had to bury his third squire.
Edward had stood in the middle of that grassy field, surrounded by maybe two dozen well-wishers, as they lowered his squire’s body into the earth. The knight had paid handsomely so the boy could be entombed rather than cremated.
Edward had said something about him being afraid of heights, though apparently caves and tight spaces had never bothered him. Thinking back on it, Sebastian suspected Edward simply hadn’t wanted the boy’s soul to be afraid.
Sebastian must have been around twelve years old at the time. Edward hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the entire funeral, not until his squire was deep beneath the earth.
The few people who had attended watched in silence as the middle-aged man stepped up to the lectern. He stood there for a moment without speaking. When he finally began, his voice was quiet.
Edward cleared his throat and delivered his eulogy.
“I don’t believe that he ever expected to return here. But I guess, in the end, we all have to come home eventually,” he said.
Sebastian was still too young to understand or remember everything, but one line had stood out to him.
“The world is only as vast as the human soul allows it to be. But by the same token, it can be just as empty. It’s what we choose to do when faced with that emptiness that defines us.”
That evening, Edward spent the night at Sebastian’s home. He had been an old acquaintance of Sebastian’s mother.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Sebastian woke to the sound of a commotion in the kitchen. Through a crack in the door, he could see Edward on all fours, weeping uncontrollably.
He wiped tears and snot from his face with both hands, trying and failing to compose himself.
Sebastian’s mother came in and cradled the knight in her arms. Edward never looked at her. He simply kept crying, staring blankly into the distance as she held him.
He kept mumbling the same words over and over to himself.
“It hurts. It hurts so much, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
The next morning, Sebastian was sworn in as his squire, and the two headed off to begin his training.
Before Sebastian could reminisce further, another attendant came in.
“Where is my master?”
There was a shaky quality in his voice, but the squire was trying his best to appear confident.
The attendant motioned for Sebastian to follow him. “He is in another waiting area. You can see him after your vow to Lord Mercer.”
“What? Now?” Sebastian asked as he came to attention. “Are we going to do the vow straight away?”
“Yes. Lord Mercer is very keen on all knights, and in your case squires, having made a vow with him. Your master, Knight Edward, has already completed his vow.”
Sebastian timidly followed the man out of the room and into yet another narrow corridor. The man took short, stuttering steps, and Sebastian struggled to keep up with him at any regular pace.
Without warning, the man came to a complete stop in front of a large ornate door. Much like the entrance to the palace, the door was clearly far newer than the building itself.
Sebastian stepped through the doorway into a large chamber. The attendant remained on the other side of the threshold and, without entering, pulled the door shut behind him.
The chamber was mostly empty, barring a few scattered candles lining the walls. As Sebastian tilted his head up, he could see that a large mural had been painted on the ceiling.
It depicted the surrounding region, along with all the animals that roamed the fields around the city. Toward the south side of the painting was an angelic-looking woman delivering a case of wine to a crowd gathering beneath her.
It was unlike anything Sebastian had ever seen. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, and the richness of the pigments gave the scene such vivid colour that, for a moment, it seemed almost more beautiful than the real landscape beyond the walls.
As Sebastian lowered his gaze, his eyes settled on the man kneeling atop a raised platform at the far end of the chamber.
It was unmistakable.
This was Lord Mercer, and he was undoubtedly touched by heaven.
Sebastian couldn’t quite explain it, but there was an energy surrounding the man that was impossible to ignore. As he stepped closer, he could feel his senses competing with one another.
His eyes saw only a middle-aged man with a short, neatly kept brown beard kneeling before him. But every other sense Sebastian possessed—and a few he wasn’t entirely sure he had—told him that what stood before him was something far more.
When Sebastian came within a metre or two of him, Lord Mercer’s eyes locked onto his.
They were the same shade of brown as Sebastian’s own, but there was something about them that seemed impossibly deep, as though they stretched far beyond the man himself.
Sebastian stopped without meaning to. His mind went blank as Mercer studied him.
“Please kneel.”
Lord Mercer’s voice seemed to echo inside Sebastian’s head.
His mind immediately jumped back to the war—to what was left of the soldiers who had faced someone touched by heaven. He knew that the being sitting in front of him was immeasurably stronger than anything from back then.
He dropped to his knees, looking straight at the floor. He could feel the Lord rise and take a step towards him.
“Now, who are you?”
His voice fell over the squire like a bucket of warm water.
“I am Sebastian.”
He could feel his throat tightening and tears beginning to pool in his eyes.
“Sebastian. Good. Now, what does Sebastian have to pledge?”
Lord Mercer studied him for a moment.
“What do you possess that is sturdy enough to stake your soul upon? After all, rotting timber makes for a poor foundation.”
Sebastian felt his lips move, but no sound came out.
Instead, images flashed through his mind.
The weeping knight.
The soldier from his first battle.
The horse drowning in the river.
His own hands kneading bread.
“I see,” the Lord continued. “Not enough there. Not enough.”
He felt the Lord kneel in front of him, placing his hand on the back of his head.
“I feel a great, vast, silent empathy for you. But I cannot save you.”
A thick, bloody tear struck the floor beneath Sebastian.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to claw at his own throat, to dig his fingernails into the flesh and tear out whatever was twisting inside him.
“We all become our fathers, in one way or another. And all fathers, eventually, prove themselves unworthy.”
Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“Will you do better?”
He paused.
“No. You cannot know that. Not yet.”
Lord Mercer placed both palms gently against Sebastian’s cheeks and tilted his head upward until their eyes met.
Tears continued to roll down Sebastian’s face.
From his right eye came clear, salty water, slipping quickly down his cheek.
From his left, thick, sluggish tears of blood traced a dark path across his skin before falling to the floor.
“Ah, yes, yes. I know what you can promise me.”
Sebastian held his breath.
“Promise me this, Sebastian: that you will always be honest with others.”
Sebastian blinked and then said the words that would cement his vow with the creature.
“I will.”
Instantly, Sebastian felt Lord Mercer’s hands coil around something deep inside him.
It was as though unseen fingers had wrapped themselves around his lungs, his stomach, and his heart, holding each of them with the same terrible care one might use to cradle a baby bird.
And with that, Lord Mercer released Sebastian, who slumped onto the floor.
Sebastian curled into a ball.
He wanted to be sick.
No—that wasn’t true.
What he really wanted was for someone to hold him, to see how badly he needed to be held.
But he was alone.
“It hurts,” Sebastian said through his tears. “It hurts, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Be First to Comment