Squire

by Payton Cavallo

  “…Fine.” Sir Tsarsko growled out. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

  “It won’t.” Sir Finguine looked at Craeft in the eye. Though it was said to Tsarsko, Craeft could feel the order in that statement. He would not attack his cousin again, if he knew what was good for him. “Now, why don’t you head out towards one of the tents and settle in. We’ve both got our orders you know, and we’re going to need to rest up for them.”

  “Alright.” Sir Tsarsko admitted. “All of you, follow me…and grab a healer along the way. You’ve got some bruises starting to form Cenric, and I’ll need you at one hundred percent for our mission.” The knight’s voice grew lower as they got further and further away. Sir Finguine watched them for a few moments before turning his attention back to Craeft.

  “You alright?” He asked.

  “As good as I’ll ever be.” Craeft rubbed his cheek, feeling a bruise start to form. Maybe he should copy his cousin and grab a healer. Though, the thought of the burning sensation of the Bruise-Be-Gone Balm made him second guess that decision.

  “I’m guessing he was talking trash to you, and you decided to shut him up?” Craeft nodded, and Sir Finguine ran a hand through his hair. “Of course he did. I’m too tired to deal with this.” The last part was muttered, nearly too quiet for Craeft to hear. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright? Or I’ll have to punish you. I doubt you want to run till you puke, do you?”

  Craeft shook his head.

  That sounded horrible.

  “Good, now the both of you, follow me.” They did so, following him into one of the tents. Craeft took a seat next to Veliane, and Sir Finguine stood in the middle of the tent. He was tense, but his body seemed weary, as if he could collapse at any moment, but his own will was keeping him from doing so. “The mission has changed.”

  “What?” Veliane exclaimed, a hint of anger coloring her tone. She seemed to be holding it back, not wanting to get on the bad side of her superior, but a bit of it bled out in her voice. “But I thought we were just supposed to be protecting the train? I mean, the Lusus invasion changed things, but with them gone, I thought we would just leave and head to the next mission once it was cleared out.”

  “Well, that isn’t the case.” The blonde man shook his head. “The truth is the Lusus should have never gotten past the wards that cover the city. It is powerful magic, old magical runes, that keep it up and functioning, and it keeps them from breaking through the walls and coming straight to the city. The walls should’ve kept them out too, which would’ve given us much more time to react to them. But since they got in…” His voice trailed, as if waiting for one of his squires to answer him.

  “You think someone let them in?” Craeft asked, his voice slightly slurred as his cheek swelled up, disbelief in his voice. How could someone let those soul eating abominations into a city? The thought was completely alien to the teen.

  “Yes.” The man nodded, a small smile on his face. It seemed he was pleased with the answer. “We just need to ascertain the motive of the perpetrator. The wards are still up, so that means someone had to get the Lusus in by other means. Thankfully, I’ve got a lead, one we’ll be investigating tomorrow. Should give us plenty of time for our wounds to fully heal.” He stood a little taller as he made to leave the tent. “So, get some rest, both of you. I need you both at your best in case something happens again.”

  The man left the tent, leaving Craeft and Veliane alone. Craeft groaned as he felt the blood rushing to his bruises, the splotches becoming a deep purple.

  He was going to need to get the attention of a healer.

  Chapter Six

  Craeft could hear the bells of the church ring overhead, the loud metallic gongs resonating throughout the entire area. It reminded him of the ones back home, in the small church on top of a hill that his mother took him to a couple times. However, that church was nothing compared to the behemoth in front of him.

  The entire building was made of limestone, colored a beautiful white that reflected the sunlight that gazed down on it, with several domes at the top of it. Large towers rose up from its corners, a throwback from older times when Lusus invasions were more common and the church was a fortress to keep the civilians inside. A few of the stained-glass windows showed scenes of a man with long bright brown hair with a fiery sword cutting down Lusus, a sunny golden aura surrounding his head in a square showing the prophet Sviatoi’s divine nature.

  One massive one in the middle depicted Miion Himself, a strange alabaster humanoid with a masculine figure, with white eyes surrounded with dark circles, and a sun-like halo hovering above His head. Each depicted The God of The Harvest in different ways. In some, He gave food to humanity, creating fertile ground to plant crops. In others, He helped with conception, bringing life to barren mothers. In most, He harvested the souls of the departed and brought them to the Eternal Fields of Elemii, the paradise where those who followed Him ended up.

  Craeft wished he had the time to stay and admire them for a bit longer, but he was not there to sight see. No, they had to follow their master’s lead as he followed them up, step after step, their armor clanking along the way.

  He also had to play nice with his cousin, the teen practically glaring holes straight into his back ever since they left camp. Sir Tsarsko went to the less…reputable districts to go find some information, leaving his team under the authority of Sir Finguine.

  Granted, he didn’t seem to be happy to do it, but he did it nonetheless.

  So now, Craeft had to deal with a team that actively either despised him, or wanted nothing to do with him. It made his nerves act up, his hands twitching every once in a while, as frost built up along them. Veliane noticed, sending a worried look his way, but didn’t comment, choosing to focus all her attention on getting the mission over and done with.

  “Beautiful place, y’know.” Fedor said, his voice low but deep as he looked up at the ancient building. “To think that it used to be a place of defense rather than worship.” He sounded wistful, but then again, he came from a long line of soldiers. Perhaps he simply enjoyed visiting places that had military significance in the past.

  “My brother would love it here.” Deroma muttered in a low breath, looking nervous at the crowds around her that flowed into the church. “Maybe I’ll be able to visit with him once he’s well.”

  “Maybe.” Craeft said, trying to strike up a conversation with the two and cut through the tension that pervaded between the two teams. “But first we’ll have to make sure the place is safe and we don’t have to deal with anymore of those Lusus.”

  “Indeed.” Deroma had a small smile on her face. “Though, I think I’ll grab a souvenir-“

  “Hey, mind your own business.” Cenric was as loud and blunt as ever, attracting a couple bystander’s attention with his tone. Deroma looked like she wanted to speak out, but Cenric silenced her with a glare before he turned back towards Craeft. “This is my team. You can talk to,” He waved his hand dismissively at Veliane, the girl’s violet eyes narrowing at him, “pauper over there.”

  “I am actually quite wealthy.” She replied, her eyes narrowing at the squire.

  “Tch, yeah. Coming from the girl who signed up to get her father’s trading license back, I really doubt that.” Cenric snarked. “You’re barely better than that loser, and at least he has the excuse of having an idiotic mother that blew her chance with her fiancé.”

  “Remember what happened the last time you talked about my mother.” Craeft ground out, ice starting to form on his hands.

  “Yeah. You had to have Sir Tsarsko pull us away so I wouldn’t crush you like the bug you are.” Cenric grinned, slamming his fists together. “But if you’d like a reminder, why don’t I get a little closer so I can turn those green eyes of yours purple.”

  “Well, get as close as you need.” Craeft said, itching to pay his cousin back for all the crap he had put him through. If he was honest with himself, he might be a little too eager if the amoun
t of ice building up on his hands was any indication. “I’ll enjoy giving you another beating.”

  “Who’s going to give who a beating?” Craeft nearly jumped at Sir Finguine’s voice, as did Cenric. “The two of you better not be planning on embarrassing the knighthood by fighting in front of a holy building like a bunch of degenerates.”

  “Well, not embarrassing it any more than it did when it allowed him in.” Cenric said, pointing at Craeft. The blonde clenched his fists as his cousin’s words, really wanting to give him exactly what he deserved.

  “The only embarrassment I see is the one in front of me.” He said with a no-nonsense tone that made it all the more insulting as he looked down at Cenric. “We’re supposed to be a united force to protect the empire from internal threats, yet you keep trying to create strife within our ranks. It is very unprofessional. Even your cousin Craeft doesn’t seem to have that problem.”

  “Yeah, he just has a lot of other ones.” Craeft heard the teen mutter under his breath. The knight looked like he was resisting the urge to smack him. Instead, he patted the squire on the shoulder.

  “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable on your cousin.” Sir Finguine said, his voice dipping low. “It’s almost like you care about him.”

  “As if.” Cenric sneered as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Well, it was just a thought. Either way, keep your hands to yourselves. I know you may have gotten a bit antsy waiting for me here, but we’re in the presence of the divine today, and I don’t need deities getting mad at me. Get enough of that from the Lusus and people as it is.” Knight Finguine said.

  Cenric snorted at the small attempt at humor before walking forward with his group, slightly ahead of Craeft’s team. Craeft leaned over and muttered a quick thank you towards Sir Finguine, though the man only sent a questioning glance his way.

  “Why are you thanking me? He wasn’t the only one ready to trade blows.” Craeft winced. Though the man’s tone was a bit playful, he could hear the scorn in those words. “And what did I tell you yesterday about getting into fights with your comrades?” The Knight sighed. “I know that he may be a jerk sometimes, but you need to learn a bit more self-control Craeft.”

  “I-I’ll try sir.” He said, his head bowed slightly.

  “See that you do. And as for you Veliane,” The girl glanced the knight’s way. “Good job keeping calm. Was expecting you to join Craeft in giving the little brat a few good ones.”

  “I have far more class than to fight someone in front of a holy building.” Veliane said as she preened under the compliment.

  “You are surely a pious figure.” Sir Finguine replied as they walked into the church, traveling past the large wooden doors.

  “Now this is something you wouldn’t see in Iquizon.” Veliane spoke as she gazed around the room. Craeft couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering either. Beautiful religious paintings decorated the room, telling stories of men fighting Lusus and the savior, Sviatoi, cutting down a dragon with a burning blade, a sunny square halo around his head. Rows upon rows of pews, black in color, surrounded the room, standing out against the white tiled floor and alabaster walls, each of the walls seeming to be decorated with artistic splendor.

  Several metallic orbs with holes in them hung from chains, a sweet-smelling incense burning from them. A few priests clad in white robes stood around on the sides as the head priest, a long grey-haired man clad in ornate golden and white robes spoke to a full congregation. The building seeming to be packed to the brim with people, many of them looking destitute.

  Considering the recent Lusus attack, they probably were.

  “Now, I don’t want any of you to cause any trouble while the man speaks.” Sir Finguine whispered out, just loud enough for the group to hear over the older man’s preaching. “It would look bad on the knighthood to interrupt a sermon.” His eyes glanced towards Cenric.

  “You mean we’ve got to stay and listen to this guy? He doesn’t even have any runes on him.” Cenric growled out. “Some priest he is.”

  “He’s the one we need information from, so I suggest you be silent.” Sir Finguine had a frown on his face, as if he’d like nothing more than to shove Cenric through a wall. “Besides, with the way you act, a bit of holiness could do you some good.”

  Cenric grumbled as he took a seat in one of the pews near the back of the room, his team and Craeft’s joining him as they listened to the sermon.

  Whoever the man was, Craeft could tell that he could preach. His words were alighted with a fiery passion for Miion, speaking of the Lord of the Harvest and preaching His and Sviatoi’s ideals to the crowd. Eventually, after an hour, the sermon ended.

  “If any of you need a place to rest, our doors will be open to you. We will provide you with warm bed and warm meals till the reconstruction has been completed, which should be sometime next week if what the alchemists and builders say is true.” The head priest was solemn, but with a bit of a hopeful tone in his voice. “For those of you that have ears to hear and hearts to love, please take this time to help your fellows that are in need. May Miion bless you and keep you all safe and close to His heart.”

  The crowd seemed to disperse at that, but many stayed behind, seeming to have nowhere else to go. A few congregated around nearby priests, asking for blessings and prayer, while some went to go grab the bowl of warm soup that was being distributed to fill their hungry bellies.

  Sir Finguine however, motioned for the group to follow him, and they did, walking behind him as he approached the Head Priest.

  The head priest was speaking to a woman, the lady quickly wandering off with wide eyes as she saw a knight and several squires walking towards the priest.

  “Ah, if it isn’t Sir Finguine! Have you come by perchance to speak of Miion?” The head priest asked, his arms spread wide and a large smile on his face. Sir Finguine let out a chuckle as he shook his head, a small smile on his face as well. Craeft noticed it didn’t seem as fake as the others.

  “Not today Father Gennadi.” A smile crossed Sir Finguine’s face and his usually tense body seeming to relax slightly in the priest’s presence. “I’ve come to talk to you about a little bit of information I’ve heard.”

  “Oh?” Father Gennadi raised a brow. “Should we take this into the back room?”

  “Of course. You never know who’s lurking about.” The knight’s eyes glanced towards the crowd for a moment, “from listening in. Who knows if they could be helping the perpetrator.”

  “Perpetrator? You mean-“ The priest’s eyes widened, before he stopped himself from speaking further. “Ah, yes. It would be best if this was a private affair.” He made to move towards a doorway behind the pulpit. “Will your squires be joining us?”

  “Yes. Wouldn’t want them to get into any trouble with me gone.” Sir Finguine looked at Craeft and Cenric. Craeft suddenly found the floor very interesting.

  “They take after their teacher then.” Father Gennadi stated.

  “Well, only two of them are mine, and they don’t take much after me.” Sir Finguine said. Father Gennadi raised an eyebrow at that.

  “And the others?” Father Gennadi asked.

  “They’re Tsarsko’s.” The smile on Sir Finguine’s face grew at the disgruntled look the priest was sporting, one of exasperation and annoyance.

  “That man. How someone like you can stand him is beyond me. Miion knows I tried to speak with him about our savior, but he could test the patience of even the saints, let alone a priest like me.” Father Gennadi said, shaking his head. “But he is a good knight, I’ll give him that. Mean as a War bull though.”

  “He gets the job done.” Sir Finguine said as they stepped into the room. Craeft looked around what had to be the priest’s living area, spotting a small fireplace, a cabinet full of books on religious topics, a small table with a couple chairs next to it, and a large bed. It branched off into a small kitchen area and a bathroom, and several pictures of a younger Gennadi with a lovely wo
man were arranged on the wall, one even having him holding what had to be his daughter. Father Gennadi sat on one of the wooden chairs, the old piece letting out a slight creak as he did so.

  “My apologies for not having anything prepared for all of you. I was not expecting to have so many guests.” Father Gennadi said, “But please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  The group did so, finding a few places to sit while the priest began to speak with Sir Finguine.

  “As I said earlier, I have come to talk with you about a little information I heard.” Sir Finguine spoke, his voice that of a man demanding answers. He seemed less of a knight and more of an interrogator, though Craeft thought that perhaps they would be one in the same in this instance. “I have heard tales from some of your congregation that there was a suspicious figure that has been attending your church for the past few months.” Father Gennadi let out a small hiss through his teeth. “I see. Does that mean you know him?”

  “Yes, I do.” Father Gennadi ran a hand through his dark grey hair, the man seeming to age a couple decades before Craeft’s eyes. “His name is Damir.”

  “No last name?” Sir Finguine questioned.

  “No. He seemed to take it very personally when I asked.” Father Gennadi said. “I found it a bit suspicious, but I deal with many that seem unsavory to the rest of society. Drug users, prostitutes, criminals, and illegitimate children,” Craeft flinched at the phrase, “All of them come to me, seeking someone who will hear them out without judging them. I suspect he’s simply an illegitimate child from one of the noble families.”

  “How so?” Sir Finguine asked.

  “His age and appearance. He was in his early twenties, a hardy young man with a built form. He had light brown hair that is common among the people here, but it was the jaw line. It had the same distinguished shape that much of the nobility here has, especially of the current ruling family, the Valentinovichs. Definitely not of the southern nobility or the northern, but us easterners certainly have it.” Father Gennadi said. “Granted he may not have been one of them, but either way, he seemed disturbed and I believe that he was simply a young man seeking someone to confess to.”