Chapter 13

“She’s still with Chugad?” Bremer asked as they walked up the lane towards her father’s domen. She had her long, blonde hair braided behind her, a few stray wisps flying around her face. Her soft, brown eyes looked over at her friend and she couldn’t help feel for him. They’d been friends almost from the first day that he’d started at her father’s – back when she was taller than him. Now, the five-feet, five-inch young woman had to look way up to see the blue eyes of her friend.

There’d been a time, just after Yren had reached his majority – she was older than him by a few months – when she thought more might develop. She did love him – but after a time she realized the love he had for her seemed to be more of a friendship or sibling love; there was the hint of something more but try as she might to fan those flames, they had never developed. A romance just didn’t look likely.

“Yes,” Yren responded simply. He found that after Issa’d actually left with the bard, his jealousy had slowly simmered down. Now, although he still felt pains in his heart, he mostly felt numb and he wasn’t certain why. “She’s asked for the rest of this week. Elva isn’t happy – but I think that’s because Bena has to leave on Firstday and Issa has spent no time with her.”

“That isn’t the only reason Elva is upset,” Bremer theorized. “I’m sure she expected Issa to choose you as her instructor.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yren shrugged. “Elva realizes it is Issa’s choice just as I do.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Yren sighed. “Yes. It does. I’ve tried very hard to put away my jealousy but I find that it isn’t as easy as I’d hoped. I’m content with it, however.”

“Do you plan to ask her to marry you when she returns?”

“No.”

“No?”

Yren paused a moment, choosing his words delicately. “I know now that my... studies ... hurt her. I probably should have waited the two seasons until she reached her own majority; I even might have, if I’d realized what was happening at the time.” He pursed his lips. “Now, though, I think it is for the best. I don’t regret a single moment I spent with Vana – or with Teran. Looking back, I don’t think I’d change a single encounter.”

“Besides,” he said with a deep breath. “Her choice of Chugad doesn’t bother me – though I think she may be making a mistake. It’s more the disrespect she’s shown me surrounding her choice.”

“Because she didn’t choose you?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s the fact she chose to use the matter of her choice as a weapon, dangling it and dangling it and then thrusting it home whenever she could. It’s the fact she thinks I should now wait two seasons for her rather than us be together.” Yren shrugged. “Perhaps I really should have waited for her.”

“That’s stupid,” Bremer interrupted. “The whole point is for someone with experience to teach you; for another to pass on what they know. Putting two inexperienced lovers together and expecting it to work is like – like – like taking two unblooded woodsmen and telling them to teach each other to fire a bow.”

Yren looked at his friend. “You miss being in the woods, don’t you?”

Bremer flushed. “Is it that obvious?”

“To one who knows you. It’s not too late, you know.”

Bremer looked at Yren suspiciously. “Did Teran talk to you?”

Yren looked confused. “Well, yes. Teran talks to me nearly every day – when she’s around. We haven’t talked about you, though.”

“She’s been talking to me about coming back,” Bremer admitted.

“You should.”

“I will,” Bremer agreed. “Soon. I just need to make sure my father and sister are looked after.”

“That isn’t your responsibility,” Yren pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Bremer agreed. “But family is family. If something happened to Elva or Ardt, wouldn’t you do what was needed for your family.”

Yren didn’t say anything for a few moments after that. He knew his slightly older friend was right. He hoped that Ardt and Elva would live forever – but if something happened to them, he would do what was necessary.

“Do you know what Sir Givens wants with me?” Yren asked.

Bremer considered for a moment. “It’s not for me to tell.”

“So, you do know,” Yren chuckled wryly. “You’re just not going to share it with me.”

“You know I’d tell you anything, Yren,” Bremer responded sincerely. “There are no secrets between us. But this – this is not my story to tell. It has to come from someone else.”

“Is something wrong?” Yren asked, suddenly worried. He’d thought Sir Givens had just wanted to ask him for some extra training hours; the Viscount’s new guard members didn’t seem to be catching on as quickly as the Count’s – Earl’s, he corrected himself. Sure, it had been couched as an emergency – but Yren thought it was just a way to get him from the smithy without Ardt causing a fuss. Bremer’s demeanor belied that answer, however.

“We’re almost there,” Bremer said, not looking at her friend. “Dad’ll explain it to you.”

Sir Girvan met them at the door. “Yren. Thank you for coming so quickly.” The man turned to his daughter. “Bremer, can you make our friends some tea. They’ll need their rest after talking with Yren.”

“Guests?” Yren asked, his brows raised, as Bremer hurried into the house.

“I’ve three knights inside,” Tergin explained. “How much do you know about the Royal Knights?”

Yren searched his memory. “Very little, honestly. I’ve heard stories of them but I don’t think I’ve ever met one.”

“You will today,” Tergin sighed. “For the past several hundred years, the King or Queen has kept a battalion of knights in Callisto – they’re called the Royal Knights or the Queen’s – or King’s, depending on who sits on the high throne - Royal Knights. Do you remember how a battalion is organized?”

Yren thought for a moment. “A Battalion has four to six companies and each company has three to five platoons. Each platoon is made up of three or four squads and each squad has four or five soldiers.”

“By rote,” Tergin chuckled. “I know you can quote it to me – I’m just unsure if you know what it really means. It’s hard to understand the organization of an army – even harder when it’s an army of knights – without seeing it firsthand. Unfortunately for you, we’ve been lucky enough to know mostly peace for the past century or so.” Tergin sighed loudly. “Oh, there’ve been the skirmishes up north but that is more a nuisance than anything. We’ve been without a true war for a long time. I fear that may be coming to an end.”

“Sir?”

“Never mind; that’s the story my guests will speak of,” Tergin waved the boy to silence. “The knights inside are from the Third Platoon. The Queen organizes her knights exactly like the army is ordered. Her battalion is broken up into companies, companies to platoons and so on. The first company is tasked with guarding Callisto – but the platoons within that company have specific responsibilities. The First Platoon of the First Company are the High Majesty’s – the Queen’s, currently - Personal Knights; they’re responsible for her safety and rarely, if ever, leave her side. The Second Platoon are the Low Majesty – the High Majesty’s first husband or wife, in this case King Drace’s - Personal Knights and they have the same responsibility for him as the First Platoon has for the Queen. The Third Platoon is responsible for the eldest child – the First Prince or Princess. The Fourth Platoon is responsible for the second eldest and so on.”

“The King and Queen only have two children, I think,” Yren remarked.

“True,” Tergin nodded. “With each other, at any rate. The ascension is – difficult to explain and a topic for another time. There have been more in the past – but that doesn’t matter. My point here is the man and women in the house are members of the Third Platoon and should be treated with the same respect you would treat any knight – only better because they are my friends. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Yren nodded. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing here. Do they need swords or new armor? If they do, it would be easier to measure them at the smithy.”

“Just treat them with respect and listen to them, okay?” Tergin grunted.

Yren followed Tergin into the house, ducking his head as he walked in. The door was seven feet tall so he needn’t have bothered but Yren always ducked anyway. Sir Givens had asked him about the habit once and Yren would only say it had something to do with the bricks; the doorway looked smaller than it was.

“Yren Dray-Tulat, allow me to introduce you to Gillen Hawksley, the First Knight of the Queen’s Royal Third Platoon,” Tergin intoned with some formality.

Yren bowed his head. “M’lady.”

“Her title is ‘Honor’, Yren,” Tergin explained.

Gillen’s eyes widened as the young man filled the room. He hadn’t looked quite so tall from outside the window. Now, she could see he was perhaps a foot taller than herself and maybe measured two of her across the shoulders. In short, the dark-haired young man with the bright blue eyes was a small mountain made flesh. He wore a stained linen shirt that was rolled up above his elbows and she was impressed with the corded muscle snaking down his forearms and around his wrists. His fingers were long, but she could see an easy strength to them. His chest was wide and thick, the loose-fitting shirt couldn’t hide that, and his shoulders rounded up almost to his jaw. She could suddenly believe Tergin’s stories of the man’s strength – but big, muscled men were typically slow and had difficulty moving; Tergin claimed otherwise with this young man.

“Tergin tells me that you are one of the best warriors he’s ever trained,” Gillen stated, watching the young man’s face.

“Sir Givens is quite kind,” Yren replied, his curious gaze taking in the knight. “I’m afraid he probably over-estimates my abilities.”

“I’ve never known Sir Givens to over- or under-estimate anyone,” Gillen asserted flatly. “Please, sit down. It’s straining my neck to look up at you.”

“Sorry, Honor,” Yren replied, taking a seat at the table. Andwynn had cleared the pieces of broken chair away earlier and moved a bench to the side of the table in their place.

“Better,” Gillen approved as Yren sat in front of her. She looked over at Syl who gave a slight shrug and bounced her eyebrows. Uud was similarly unsure. Neither could tell anything from the man just by looking at him – but then, she hadn’t expected to.

Gillen measured her words carefully. She didn’t know this young man and, even though Tergin vouched for him, she didn’t necessarily trust him; trust was never given, only earned. “My mission is sworn to secrecy so I can’t share overly much with you. Suffice it to say the Queen ordered my platoon to escort some precious cargo to Callisto. Unfortunately, we’ve met with some – resistance. Have you by chance heard of the Red Guard.”

Yren thought quietly for a moment then shook his head. “I can’t say I have, m-Honor.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have heard of them,” Gillen shrugged. “They are... “ She paused, trying to explain them. “Call them a well-trained portion of the Empire of Kortho’s army. An elite force of fighters, so to speak. It appears the Emperor of Kortho is interested in the cargo the Queen ordered us to protect. He sent a portion of the Red Guard to – acquire her - it.”

The euphemism the knight used didn’t fool the young smith but her slight slip confirmed Yren’s suspicions; if the Third Platoon, as Tergin said, was responsible for the safety of the Princess, then she was likely the precious cargo. Yren looked at the three knights, his face showing his confusion. Still, these were knights, so he held his tongue.

Gillen sighed, sensing the young man was more clever than she originally gave him credit for. She might not have picked up on it so quickly if it weren’t for her years of working with the Royal Knights; no one expected intelligence from such large women and men. It was as if normal people expected the gods to be fair – that they should grant size or craftiness but not both. She herself had started with that fallacy long ago – but she had been cured of her misconception by working besides men and women who were both big and strong and intelligent. “Go ahead and ask your question.”