Squire

by Payton Cavallo

  Craeft shook his head. “My mother’s family rejected me. My father’s family rejected me. All I get in life is rejection after rejection. I was so hopeful that coming to the academy would be a fresh start, one where I could make my family proud and finally be a somebody, to have glory, but no, you had to ruin it. It wasn’t enough to crush my mother’s hopes and dreams, but you and grandfather had to try and destroy mine too for the crime of being born, for being a fake Proudhill, and steal away any chance I had at making friends. Sure, I have Veliane and Sir Finguine, but they’re my teammate and mentor. They’re forced to be by my side.” Craeft grit his teeth. “And why is it only after I take a blow for you, that you apologize? Why do I have to nearly die to make you care about me?”

  Craeft clenched his fists, ice traveling up his arm as he lost control of himself. All the years and years of holding it in had finally exploded, and yet, after letting it out, he still felt empty. He briefly felt a warming sensation and saw his cousin’s hand on his arm, the ice heated just enough to begin melting. Craeft tried to yank his arm away but Cenric held firm, emerald meeting emerald as the boy looked into his eyes.

  “I know I hurt you. I hurt you bad.” Cenric admitted. “I was a fool, and I shamed myself and my family for acting like that. But I was wrong, Craeft.” The boy turned his head, slowly letting go of Craeft’s arm. “I was wrong.” It was a whisper this time, but Craeft could still hear those words. “I know that it may be too late to ask for forgiveness, or really anything with the way I treated you, but I just gotta ask if you’ll forgive me?”

  The injured squire was silent for a few moments as he looked away from his cousin. He…he honestly didn’t know how to feel about it.

  When he had first met his cousin, he had been elated to finally meet family, to finally get to know the half of him that had been missing all his life, only to be turned away. But now, he could finally have all he wanted from back then.

  But that want was tainted.

  The constant belittlement, the scathing remarks, the bullying. It had damaged that image he had help up of his family all his life. Sure, when he was young, he knew that his grandfather and grandmother did not accept him, but he had thought that his cousin surely would have.

  Only to be proven wrong.

  Craeft clenched his fist as he slowed his breathing, noticing the ice building up along his arms again. He was really starting to lose it, the old memories getting to him, but he needed to reign it in and think rationally.

  But then again, he was only human wasn’t he? He couldn’t ignore all the hurt and pain his cousin had given him, and even though the teen seemed sincere in his apology, he just couldn’t get those memories out of his head.

  The wounds were too fresh, too raw to be mended by mere words. In time, maybe it would heal enough for that to happen, but as it stood, Craeft hated Cenric, even if his apology lessened that anger somewhat and turned it into a confused frustration. Yet, a small part of him wanted what the other boy was offering, to be accepted by a member of his family.

  It was so vexing.

  “Cenric, after all the things you did to me…I…I don’t think I can forgive you so easily.” Craeft admitted. “I was your family. Your aunt’s son, yet you turned me away and tormented me for months, when all I wanted to do was get to know you better. You said terrible things about my mother, about my lineage, about my status, and I honestly despised you for it…” Craeft gulped, finding that anger rising in him again, but instead of the same burning hot that he felt in his heart, it just felt numb. Tired, like a weary traveler that simply wanted to rest. “I just don’t think I can forgive you just yet.”

  “But then why did you save me?” Cenric asked, a brow raised in confusion. “You could’ve just let that scumbag rip me apart with that fancy blade of his and let me die. Then it’d be me in here instead of you.”

  Craeft turned his head slightly. “Because, even if I do hate you, I still don’t want you to die. You were cruel to me, but that’s all you were. You don’t deserve to bleed out onto the ground for that.”

  Cenric looked away, his lips curled in a mixture of distaste and anger, though it didn’t seem to be aimed at Craeft for once. “I see…I’m not happy about it, but I’ll guess I’ll just have to accept that. For now.” He spoke through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated, but not wanting to make the situation more tense than it already was.

  Craeft caught a hint of pink near the entrance to the room and turned towards the doorway. Veliane standing there, purple eyes looking at the both of them, the pink scarf that she always wore wrapped around her neck.

  Cenric made to leave the room.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  As he left, Veliane sent him an irritated look as she walked past him and slowly crept up to Craeft’s bed. She seemed hesitant, almost afraid. Craeft had never seen her look so…small before. Scared yes, he had seen her like that, but to see her standing beside his bed and not even looking at him worried Craeft.

  “Are you alright?” He asked, his hand grabbing her wrist.

  “No.” She replied. “I just…it’s all my fault. If I had just fired off the spell then none of this would’ve happened.” She looked down to the floor. “I heard what the others said. You were on the ground, bleeding all over the place, how the healers had to shove some Blood Replix potion down your throat to keep you from dying, and now you’ve got that big scar on your chest.” She shook her head. “And I’m to blame for all of it.”

  “Veliane, it isn’t your fault.” Craeft said. “I chose to take the blow for my cousin.”

  “But that’s just it!” She raised her voice for a moment, before it returned to the soft tone from before. “If I had just used the spell in the first place instead of standing there like a coward, you wouldn’t have had to do that. If I had been stronger, and better with my spell work, I wouldn’t have suffered a concussion and passed out.” She looked down on the floor, not meeting his eyes. “If only I wasn’t such a…such a coward.” She bit out the last words, her self-hatred seeming to pour out with every syllable. The usual stoicism she wore like a mask broke down completely as she looked at him, her eyes filled with regret.

  “What?” Craeft asked. “Veliane, you weren’t a coward-“

  “Craeft, I was shaking like a leaf in front of an armed criminal. Me, a squire trained in the knight academy, scared of him. The Lusus were terrifying, and so I was a bit right to be scared then, but of a common criminal?” She asked, incredulity coloring her tone with a bit of bitterness added to the mix. “No, that was nothing but cowardice. The same cowardice and fear that has been with me since I was little and my mother-“ She bit her lower lip as she cut herself off, seeming to hesitate to speak before she shook her head, seeming to refuse to speak another word about her.

  She seemed to be in her own little word as she continued on, ignoring Craeft’s attempts to calm her down as her eyes grew watery. “I was a coward. I was too scared of getting hurt, of death, to even try. And now, you got hurt too.”

  “But I didn’t die.” Craeft remarked, trying to cheer her up. It seemed to have the opposite effect though as she seemed to grow more frustrated with herself.

  “But you were close. If it had been a few seconds longer, you would’ve died and I would’ve lost the only person on this continent who even bothered to know me. I would’ve lost my only friend, and it would’ve been because of my cowardice.” She said. Craeft eyes widened slightly at the last part. Sure, he knew that she was his comrade, his fellow. But she was forced to be that, to stand at his side.

  To think she thought of him as a friend.

  His cheeks reddened slightly as he blushed, before he shook his head. He couldn’t let that distract him now. Not when his…friend, it felt odd to think that, needed him.

  “Well, let’s not focus on the what-if’s and the maybes. I’m still here, and next time, we’ll show Damir who he’s messing with.” Craeft knew it was a bit cheesy to say, but it seemed to do the
job and got her to let out a wet chuckle as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “That was…that was awful Craeft. Really bad. But I needed that. Just promise me you won’t die on me, okay?” She asked.

  “I promise.” Craeft replied. It wasn’t one he was sure he could keep as the man they were pursuing was powerful, but he would try his hardest to stay alive. If not for himself, then for his family and…and his friend.

  “Good. Now why don’t you sit back and rest? You’ve earned it.” She tried to ease him back down, but he stuck firm as he forced himself up, pushing the rails down and his feet over the edge. It was excruciating, the pain still raw from the blade, but he would endure for he had a goal now, one that was worth more than any personal glory. “Craeft?”

  The words of his grandfather rang through his head once again.

  ‘You’re a disgrace to our family name.’

  But they didn’t carry the bite they did before. The sting was gone, and all that was left was hard cold determination.

  His grandfather had been right. He had been a disgrace. His own weakness had caused him to falter, cost the noblewoman her life, and caused his teammate to nearly start bawling at the sight of him.

  ‘No more.’ He thought. ‘I’m sick of this. Sick of these issues that plague my mind. My own cousin admitted he was wrong, that I wasn’t worthless. It’s time I start seeing myself like that as well. But there’s only one way to do that…’

  “Veliane, when you said you weren’t powerful enough, you meant it right?” She nodded. “And I wasn’t powerful enough either. Granted, he outsmarted me, but intelligence is a power in its own right, so I’ve got to get better at that as well. So, I was thinking of asking Sir Finguine to train us, the both of us.”

  “I…I don’t know Craeft.” Veliane replied, her eyes carrying a hint of worry. “With your condition, I think it’d be best if you rested.”

  “Veliane, I failed in protecting you and that noble because I was weak.” Craeft said as he stood up. His feet were cold against the tiled floor, and his form was slightly hunched before he straightened himself out.

  “But you saved that little girl.” Veliane replied.

  “I held off a couple minor Lusus, something even her enforcer father managed to do. But I am a squire. I should be held to a higher standard. I should’ve been able to protect that noble, but I couldn’t. I failed both her and you because of my weakness and I won’t do that again.” He clenched his fists. “I won’t.”

  “You’re really determined about this aren’t you?” She asked. The usual stoic attitude was back in place, but she seemed…calmer. Less guarded seemed the better word.

  “Yeah.” It was all he said, and all that was needed to be said. Regardless of whether she agreed or not, he would find Sir Finguine and beg him to train him, even get down on his hands and knees if he had to. If it allowed him to keep his friend and those who entrusted him with their safety guarded, then he’d train even with the pain in his chest.

  He had failed once.

  He refused to fail again.

  Veliane seemed to see the determination in his eyes, and knew that he wouldn’t back down on this. He took a step forward towards the doorway, the long pants the hospital had granted him protecting him a bit from the chill. It mattered little though as he stumbled, Veliane quickly moving forward and putting herself underneath his arm to help him walk.

  It was a bit difficult with the height difference, Craeft being nearly a foot taller than her, but they still made it down the hallway to Sir Finguine’s room. They were stopped several times by healers, but Veliane had made several excuses that convinced them to leave them alone, allowing them to travel towards their destination.

  It seemed to be another hospital room, but this time, the circumstances were far gloomier, an air of depression pervading it. On the hospital bed was Nadia, potions being dripped fed right into her veins. Yet her condition simply seemed to remain the same, her eyes shut as her body simply functioned like a machine, breathing in and out.

  Beside her bed was a wealthy looking man who wore a lavished black suit with a frilled collar that covered his neck. He had the same light brown hair as Nadia, though far shorter than hers. He looked down upon her with his bright blue eyes, bags hanging under them and tear marks on his cheeks, partially hidden behind a short beard. Sir Finguine stood beside him, speaking to the man, before the wealthy man turned towards the new visitors to the room.

  He was silent for a moment, seeming to size them up. Then he spoke, his voice rich and cultured, yet having a sorrowful tone to it.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Squires who failed to save my sister.” His eyes glanced back towards Nadia. “Though I guess you weren’t the only ones who failed.” He let out a scoff as he shook his head. “What a failure of a Duke I am, unable to protect my own family. I should have kept her behind the wards of the Valentinovich Manor, should have kept her safe, but I let her go for her little walks, and look at her now.” He pointed towards her, her chest rising and falling as air filled her lungs. “She bled out too much. Her brain was without oxygen for too long, and now she’s just a corpse hooked up to these machines, keeping her body alive but…there’s just nothing left.”

  Craeft felt his heart ache as he saw the tears well up in the man’s eyes before he wiped them away, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and his index finger to try and hide the tears. Nobles couldn’t cry after all, especially not in front of those lower than them.

  It still didn’t stop his voice from cracking though.

  “Father entrusted me to take care of my brothers and sisters, and make sure the Valentinovich family stayed safe, and look how I have failed him.” The man said as he shook his head. “Look how my sister has been massacred.”

  “Your Serenity,” Sir Finguine said. “I swear we will find the man responsible for this travesty and bring him to justice.”

  “Just call me Aleksander, or Duke Aleksander if you insist on the title. I don’t care for honorifics at this point, not when I took part in this catastrophe.” He said, his eyes planted firmly on his sibling. “What a foolish plan. I want to put the blame on your shoulder Sir Finguine, but I agreed to this. I should have kept her in the mansion, but I went along with this, and look where it got me.” He shook his head. “My sister paid the price for my pride.”

  Aleksander shook his head, before he turned his gaze towards the two Squires. His eyes were clouded with anger, but underneath it was a hint of understanding and sorrow that slowly and gradually rose to the top and pushed the anger down as he looked at them. His eyebrows furrowed before he spoke.

  “As for the both of you. I’m sorry for my tone earlier, but I…” His voice cracked for a moment. “It is always hard to lose a family member. I’d already lost my father during the invasion and to lose her so soon...” He sighed as he ran a hand through his brown locks. “I know she may not have been the best towards either of you. She was a bit arrogant, but she was my sister. She loved this city with all her heart, and put her all into making it one of the finest places in the Empire, and yet she was cut down like some rabid mogon.” He looked Craeft in the eyes. “But I want to thank you both. It was only the efforts of the knights that drove that coward off, so I thank you for giving your all in protecting my sister, even if…” He seemed to lose his voice for a moment, swallowing as he struggled to speak. “Even if Lady Nadia lost her life. Just don’t make her death meaningless.”

  “We won’t, Your Serenity. I promise we will bring the perpetrator to justice.” Craeft replied as he tried to form a salute, but grimaced as the pain lanced through his chest. Aleksander seemed to appreciate the effort though, nodding towards the two in a sign of respect before he left.

  “Why is he out of bed?” Sir Finguine asked. He sounded exhausted, as if he could barely bring himself to continue on. Craeft couldn’t blame him, as he doubted the man could even muster up the effort with how things were going. “He should be resting.”


  “He wanted to see you sir,” She saluted, using her right arm to do so lest she drop Craeft. “And so did I.” Craeft eyes widened as she glanced towards him out of the corner of her eye, a small smile appearing on her lips. It was tiny, but it was there.

  Sir Finguine raised an eyebrow in inquiry, but Craeft could tell that he was a bit annoyed at him for getting out of his bed and moving around. “And what would the both of you want to see me for?”

  Craeft struggled as he took his arm from around Veliane and slowly got down on one knee, the pain nearly causing him to falter. His head hung low, with his blonde locks hiding the front of his face from view, his eyes planted firmly on the ground. He opened his mouth and spoke, his tone full of determination to see things through, no matter the cost.

  “S-sir,” Craeft stuttered slightly as the agony of his wound flared up, but he would not something like a little pain stop him. Or, as he felt another wave lance through him, more than a little. “I ask that you train me and Veliane so that when we meet Damir again, that he be the one who gets taken down and not us.”

  “And why should I?” Sir Finguine asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are injured, and she had a concussion. You both need to take this time to rest up and let your bodies heal.”

  “Please sir. If I have to beg you I will, but I can’t stand to fail another person like I failed Nadia and Veliane, and how I failed the knighthood when the noblewoman lost her life.” Craeft tried his hardest to convince the man. “Just please…I refuse to be weak any longer.”

  The man was silent for a few moments, the tension in the room escalating as he stared down at Craeft, the man’s eyes boring into him. The squire began to get nervous, wondering if he’d be punished for nearly demanding training from the knight. He expected many things, but the last thing he expected was to hear the man let out a scoff.