Squire

by Payton Cavallo

“Stand up. I was going to train you both anyway. It’s my job to turn you both into powerful knights after all, ones who are ready to face any challenge that faces the empire.” He had a frown plastered across his face, but he could see the bit of respect in the man’s eyes. “Besides, Tsarsko is training his, and I refuse to have my squires be second best. However, this training will be nothing like back at the academy. I won’t coddle you, and you will hate my guts. But within two weeks, after you both are fully healed up of course, I should have you ready to at least stand up to that, as Tsarsko would say it, criminal scum. So, are you both ready?”

  “But sir, what if he attacks before then?” Craeft asked, and a dark look appeared in the man’s eyes.

  “Then you leave him to me. Now, I’ll ask once more, are you both ready?”

  It was silent for a moment, before Veliane answered for the both of them.

  “Yes.”

  Sir Finguine mouth etched upwards into a tiny smile.

  Craeft knew he would grow to hate that smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was six days into the training. Craeft felt the rays of the sun glaze his shoulders as it peeked through the clouds. Sweat dripped from his brow, a swipe with the back of his hand keeping it from getting into his eyes. He glared at the older man, but it wasn’t with hatred. Well, not completely.

  After all, the man had taken the time to train him, and Craeft was thankful for that.

  Sir Finguine stood in front of him, his Swerdan in hand as he casually spun the massive weapon as if it was made of air, practically weightless. The older man looked at him with a gleam in his eye and a small smile on his face, clearly trying to get Craeft to relax slightly and let his guard down.

  He had learned the hard way not to underestimate the man.

  “You’re getting there.” Craeft only had a split second to react as he blocked a blow with his swerdan, the scythe scraping against the blade as the man tried to reach around and put it around his back. “Your biggest problem was always your lack of confidence. But you’re slowly improving. Nothing like a scrape with death to get you off your feet.”

  Craeft didn’t reply as he picked up the blade with one arm and spun, forcing the knight back. It was clear that Finguine was playing with him, but even a playful knight was beyond Craeft’s level, and perfect for learning.

  “The way you wield that blade now, you wield it with pride. Just like a knight always should.” Craeft dipped down as the man attacked him with his scythe once more. “Before, you would abandon your blade at the first chance because you believed that you weren’t quick enough. Instead of putting distance between you and your foe, you wanted to simply freeze them up and dispatch them like that.” Finguine lifted himself off the ground as ice quickly spread across it, a slight shimmer underneath his feet as a magical force pushed him off it and cracking the frozen liquid underneath. “But I’m happy to say you’ve refined your technique as well.”

  Craeft swung, barely managing to hit the man and knock him back with his swerdan. It was a strange way to use his sword, but Finguine had taught him that the mass of a weapon could be a weapon of itself.

  Though, that mattered little to Finguine as he used controlled bursts of his magic, demonstrating the various uses of a single mastered spell to both keep him from the frozen ground and keep the pressure on Craeft.

  The squire grit his teeth as he quickly created the icy armor around his body, far faster than he used to while also being far more condensed, to block a swipe on his right. The scythe glazed across it, a loud scratching noise echoing around the clearing outside Krasnolovka, and Finguine finally landed on the ground, far away from Craeft’s cold touch.

  “However, you’re going to need more than a bit of armor to stop me.” Craeft could see the wave coming toward him, a magical spell that caused a wave of magical energy to slam into its target. It was the propelium spell. Craeft bent over and put his hands on the ground, creating an icy wall in front of him, only to feel the presence of the man behind him as Finguine used the same spell to get around it.

  He felt the metal tap on his shoulder, the scythe’s blade pointed downward. With a quick pull, it could tear his arm off.

  However, Craeft had not shown all the new techniques he had developed to Finguine.

  The knight used another magical wave to force himself back as he manipulated the icy armor and created spikes from his back.

  “Ah a new trick I see.” Sir Finguine praised, his voice full of intrigue and a bit of mirth. “But it’s going to take more than a few little tricks to take on someone of my caliber, eh Craeft? But if you’re wanting to show off your tricks, why don’t I show off a few of mine?”

  It was over before Craeft knew what had happened.

  One moment he had been turning around, and the next he had been struck multiple times by the back of the scythe without even blinking.

  He fell to the ground, breathing heavily as he felt the bruises begin to form.

  “Yeah, your comrade didn’t like that one much either.” Finguine mused. “Gave me a bit of a funny face though, trying to look all angry at me.” Craeft’s eyes glanced to the side and saw Veliane sitting nearby, glaring at Sir Finguine.

  He poked Craeft with the sharp end of his scythe.

  “But you won’t be like that, will you Craeft?” Craeft really knew he would hate Sir Finguine’s smile, and his predictions turned out right as the man peered down at him. “After all, you wanted this, and we’ve still got eight more days to go.”

  Craeft groaned.

  Eight days passed and Craeft found himself in the small hospital room that Duke Aleksander had allotted them for their stay.

  “By Miion,” Craeft murmured out as he plopped down on a small plush chair in the hospital room. His muscles ached, and the scar along his chest and the cuts and bruises he had acquired with the two weeks of training stung deeply. It didn’t stop the small smile that spread across his face though, one full of teeth. He could feel it, feel his core growing stronger along with his body, those acids breaking it down to build it up even better than before. Still, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though. “I feel like I’m going to fall apart.”

  “Shut up.” Veliane groaned out as she practically dragged herself into the room, sweat pouring down her form. Both him and her were wearing plain shorts and a shirt that Sir Finguine had managed to acquire, wanting to have something to wear while their armor was cleaned from all the sweat that had accumulated inside it. “You’ve at least got all those muscles. For me, it’s been torture.” She leaned her head against a counter and just breathed, letting her body relax after the nightmare they had been through.

  “You better get used to it, because that’s going to be our daily regiment once this mission is over.” Sir Finguine handed him and his friend a cup of water, the squire greedily drinking it down like it was the most precious resource in the world. Then again, to Craeft, it really was. The cold liquid felt good as it cooled him down in ways his ice just couldn’t. “I’m just glad you both could still move. After the one who trained me did that to my team when we were squires, we couldn’t even walk. Had to crawl back to camp that night.” Sir Finguine had a wistful look in his eyes. “Oh, those were the days.”

  “You sound almost happy.” Craeft said.

  “Well, that was when me and my team were together.” Sir Finguine counted a few fingers on his right hand. “There was me, Tsarsko, Meaghan, and Knight Pitosin. He was a pain, using his serpent magic to get vipers to nip at us during training. They never bit us, but none of us liked those disgusting little reptiles.” The blonde man shuddered. “Terrifying I tell you. Terrifying, but at least we were all at it together.”

  “Wait, who is Meaghan?” Craeft asked. Sir Finguine stared at the teen for a moment, seeming to contemplate telling him or not. Craeft wasn’t expecting much from him. He seemed secretive to everyone but Sir Tsarsko, but that man surely wasn’t saying much to him after the little…spat he had with Cenric when
they had met in the triage.

  “She was our third teammate. She stayed with us for a while, even when she got into the knighthood.” Craeft was a bit surprised the man was actually talking to him about his past, but he wouldn’t interrupt. It would be good to learn about the man who had taught him how to fight. “Then I chose a different career profession within the knighthood, one she didn’t particularly enjoy, and well…our split was not a nice one. Still, I have hope she’s out there, happy with some kids, enjoying life.” The knight didn’t seem truly happy, a small bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “I wish her the best.

  Craeft wasn’t foolish enough to ask about it though. The subject seemed far more personal for an outsider like him to intrude upon it.

  “But that’s the past.” The knight spoke, wanting to move the subject away from those memories. “Let’s keep it in the present, shall we?” The man crossed his arms over his chest. “You both did well today, and I’m really pleased to see the progress you both made. Maybe I won’t have to drag your sorry selves back here the next time we face Damir.”

  “Thank you Sir Finguine.” Craeft replied, taking the rather back handed compliment in stride. He had stopped caring about small things like that, the little jabs becoming far less effective now that he knew he had some people who he could count on to have his back. It still felt weird, even a few weeks later, to have actual friends, but it was the good kind of weird.

  “You’re welcome.” The man had a small grin on his face as Veliane looked at him with nothing short of absolute loathing, perhaps hoping that she would become as skilled as his cousin in fire magic so she could cause him to spontaneously combust. However, she seemed to give up on trying to light the man on fire with her glare and instead drank some more water, relishing its cool taste.

  “Don’t give me that look Veliane, you know you’ve come out stronger from this. Why, your barriers could even last a moment or two under my strikes, and you’ve gotten far better with them as well. You even learnt a few tricks from me to turn those barriers from defensive to offensive.” Sir Finguine said as Veliane seemed to resume attempting to kill him with her eyes.

  “You’re not the one having to practically drag yourself up here.” She laid her legs on the chairs next to Craeft, propping her head up on her hand. They were quite nice in Craeft’s opinion, smooth with a few nicks and scratches here and there, and with thick thigh-

  She caught his eyes with those pretty purple orbs of hers, and he quickly turned his head, his cheeks a scarlet red.

  Thankfully, Sir Finguine didn’t seem to care where Craeft’s eyes seemed to wander, and the blonde thanked small miracles for that.

  He didn’t want to endure any teasing from the man.

  “Stop complaining. When we trained, it was up in the mountains. Snowy ones too.” He looked towards Craeft, the squire looking back as he listened intently to the knight’s words. “The Gara Mountains to be exact, where most of the Proudhills are. Cold place, but it’s beautiful near the mountain tops.”

  “You’ve been there?” Craeft asked, a hint of intrigue filling him. His mother never really talked about the place, wanting to leave her past behind her, but Craeft had always wanted to learn about his family. “What’s the city of Hincmar like? Mother never told me much and-“

  The man raised his hand, silencing the boy.

  “We’ll get a chance to go there eventually.” The man held a hand under his chin. “Perhaps once you’re a bit more learned and experienced. Though, at the very least, I doubt you’ll have to worry about the cold with how far you’ve come with that ice magic of yours. If only you had some of your family’s talent with runes, you’d be a really nasty force to deal with.”

  Craeft felt his cheeks light up slightly under the man’s praise. It had been a grueling two weeks, but the training had done him well. His control over his ice had grown leaps and bounds above what it was before, able to make more and last far longer in his ice armor. As for his swerdan, well, he knew that it would be far more useful in combat now that he had learned how to properly wield it.

  “Thank you sir.” Craeft replied.

  “It’s no problem, you’ve both earned it.” He held his crown card in his hand, the bulky thing twirling in his fingers. “And you’ll especially have earned it once I win my bet with Tsarsko. He bet five hundred bronze crowns that you both would give out before the training ended.” The grin on his face was not pleasant in the slightest, least of all for Tsarsko’s bank account. “He was always a sucker with his bets.”

  Craeft let out a small chuckle as the man said that, finding the depressive aura that had clung to them like a second skin since their time arriving in Krasnolovka lightening, if only a slight bit.

  Still, Craeft couldn’t afford to get too comfortable. With Damir out there, there was no telling what kind of damage the man could do.

  He had been quiet for the past two weeks, but if anything, that made Craeft all the more nervous. Two weeks, with no sign of him and his accomplice since he assassinated a noble. Perhaps he was waiting for the heat to die down, but that didn’t sound like someone of Damir’s caliber. No, the man seemed zealous for his cause when he fought, only seeking Nadia’s death.

  “In the meantime,” The man put his crown card away in a pouch on the right side of his hip and his left hand reached down into a pouch on the opposite side and produced two items wrapped in foil. The smell of a nicely done burger reached Craeft’s nose, and his stomach reminded him that it was empty as it gurgled loudly. “Why not have some burgers? My treat.”

  The knight tossed them, Craeft catching one and Veliane catching the other.

  Craeft would like to say that he carefully ate the delectable food in a delicate manner just like how his mother taught him, just like how the nobility would eat. However, what he would like to happen and what did happen were too very different things.

  He scarfed it down, barely taking a few sips of his water as he tore into the delicious treat. Though, at the very least, he didn’t seem alone in that regard. It seemed Veliane had been just as hungry, but simply managed to hide it better. It mattered little though as under just two minutes, their burgers were gone and their master was holding his hand up to his face, trying and failing to hide his snickers.

  “Now that you two are done ripping into your meal like a bunch of Drators,” the man said sardonically, causing Veliane’s cheeks to light up as she blushed, trying not to look affected by the man’s words. “I can tell you what you’re both going to be doing tomorrow.”

  Craeft didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t deny that anything beat waiting around the hospital while Damir was out and about, most likely getting ready to perform another hit.

  “Since Cenric said the perpetrator’s name aloud, I have come to the conclusion that if this Damir fellow isn’t getting ready to target another Valentinovich, then there’s only going to be one other target he’s after…” Sir Finguine said, drifting off at the end. He seemed to want the squires to fill in the blanks, but Craeft couldn’t think of anyone who fit the…oh.

  “It’s Father Gennadi isn’t it?” Veliane answered for the both of them, having come to the same conclusion as Craeft had. “It’s because Cenric said his name, and we didn’t get his name from any other source, right?”

  “Correct.” Sir Finguine nodded along with her words. “Which means, only one person could have told us. Someone that was close to him. Someone who would be high up on the man’s list of people to kill if they told on him.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Craeft asked, a bit of fear filling him. His scar ached slightly as he remembered the bite of Damir’s sword in his chest, and despite his new found confidence and the heavy training he had went through, he couldn’t help but feel that small tinge of terror run through him. “We’re going to pull guard duty again right? Or something along those lines?”

  “No, absolutely not.” The man shook his head. “That did not go so well last time,
and the assassination of a head priest, especially after the recent assassination of a noble, would be disastrous,” He held his hand up to his chin, “though, it may prove difficult to get the man to come with you. He’s the same as he was all those years ago, and he was always stubborn. Hasn’t changed much really.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Veliane asked. “If he’s so stubborn, then he may not listen to us.”

  “Then you tell him that it’s an order from Sir Finguine. He’ll know it’s far more serious then.” The knight’s tone was completely serious, showing no hesitance in giving out the order. “I’ll be busy protecting the Valentinovich Manor with Tsarsko’s Squires, but the both should be able to hold him off and shoot of the excandescant spell to alert us if he arrives. If he doesn’t, take Father Gennadi back to the hospital and guard him till we get back. Got it?”

  They both saluted, putting their arms up to their chest.

  “Yes sir!” The spoke with confidence, their voices booming in the small room.

  Craeft would not fail this time, he would not let that criminal scumbag get away with his crimes, even if he was like him. He would prove Master Riona’s choice in helping him get into the Ascean Knight Academy to be the right one, and he’d make his family proud. They stirred slightly, a bit battle ready for what was to come, and with their training, Craeft welcomed the opportunity to pay the man back for what he had done.

  Damir’s days were numbered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m sorry young squire, but I refuse.” Father Gennadi spoke softly, the empty church barely lit by the lights along the walls lending an eerie aura to the place. “This is my home, and if Damir wishes to see me here, then I will let him.”

  “But sir,” Craeft clenched his fists slightly, having grown tired of the man’s deflections. They had been at the church for nearly half an hour already, and every moment the man was out in the open was another moment he could be picked off by Damir. He was nervous just standing in the church with the man, every shadow seeming to grab at him, and the full moon shining through the windows helped little with his nerves. “This is for your protection. Damir killed Nadia and due to…” He didn’t want to say slip up. “circumstances, he may have found out about your involvement with us.”