Celebrating after a victory was a natural.
After a breakthrough during training or if he did particularly well in a hunt, Robert’s mentor, Sir Quintana, would take him out for a nice meal or soak with him in one of the more extravagant bathhouses. Nobles threw banquets to celebrate everything from the birth of an heir to their dog’s birthday. The hunters liked to go for drinks after a job.
Robert wasn’t surprised that Victory had a custom of celebrating the completion of a campaign. He did have doubts about how successful it would be, the mood in the fort being ambiguous as it was. The stern northerners whispered together in the shadows of buildings and the hunters were anxious to leave. The only thing that kept them from bolting was their pay. It was also what lured them to the Witness Circle, a place that would likely haunt their nightmares for the rest of their lives.
The night started as awkwardly as Robert expected. The north was always cold but nights were especially bad. The quiet snowfall dusting the shoulders and heads of those that dared to leave their warm abodes didn’t set the mood for revelry, in his opinion. The fires spread throughout the field did little to help unless he stood right by the flames and there was a crowd around each one.
If he were in charge of the acolytes, as Alana was passing out payments to the leaders of the different forces that comprised her army, he would have taken the money and distributed the crowns back at the bunkhouse they were staying in. No mess, no fuss, and they would be gone by morning.
He wasn’t in charge though. Unfortunately, Will had thicker skin. He endured the awkward atmosphere and accepted Alana’s offer to share a drink. The hunters were the same, having developed a liking for the special drinks passed out every night during the campaign. It would be rude to be the only one refusing to join in the merrymaking, so Robert accepted a cup when it was handed to him.
One drink turned into three. Like magic, he no longer felt the chill of the night. Or the previous tension that made him so conscious of the strange affair. He stood in a crowd as a drunken hunter grossly exaggerated his accomplishments. A common theme. They seemed to be taking turns, each one telling more outrageous lies than the speaker before them in an effort to draw the biggest reaction from their crowd. They weren’t alone. The attending knights were also sharing stories, though they were more tame. Probably because they could handle the strong drink better.
“It’s Quin, isn’t it?”
Robert looked up. It took his blurry vision a moment to make out the face of the person addressing him. The moment the handsome features became recognizable, he felt a spike of envy. Robert considered himself good-looking. He hoped he’d grow a little taller but he had no trouble having a conversation with ladies when he attended balls. According to his mentor, being fit, strong, and wealthy enough to maintain a household was more than enough to have women throwing themselves at him.
The man in front of him could have none of those things and achieve the same, if not more, success. It was the kind of face that made Robert wanted to punch him, despite the friendly smile he wore.
Beside him was a familiar face. Arthur stood beside the stranger wearing a small grimace. He raised his cup and took a small sip, as if he was savoring the contents. Or pacing himself. A rare show of restraint from the pirate son.
“Who you?” Robert slurred, the shroom juice compromising his eloquence.
“Lancecain. A member of the Polar Duelists.”
He stuck out his hand out. Robert reflexively grabbed it, squeezing with all his strength. It was a contest no soldier could avoid, or so his mentor said. Lancecain proved the words right once again as he didn’t hesitate to participate, applying a crushing force to Robert’s fingers without the slightest change in his smile. It took an effort not to massage the aching digits once they released each other.
“Hope you don’t mind the sudden introduction. I don’t think I will have another chance to have a conversation with you and that would be a shame.”
“Oi,” Arthur grumbled. “Look at his eyes, mate. He looks like he’s half a cup from drowning. You need to use a lot less and much smaller words if you want to get through to him.”
“Hey!” Robert protested. He was pretty sure the pirate son had just called him stupid.
“Haha, you’re right. This is a time for remembrance and indulgence. I shall keep my business short. Quin, you would make a great Polar Duelist. On behalf of my order, I am officially inviting you to join us.”
Robert snorted softly. It wasn’t the first time he’d received such an offer. Normally, he refused them with more grace but the drink had robbed him of that as well and his thoughts showed on his face. “I decline.”
“You should think about it. Arthur tells me you have four affinities. I kept an eye on you throughout the campaign. You don’t have much experience with them, do you?”
Robert flinched. His training had focused on the sword. There were other demands on his time. Aside from learning to fight, he also received a noble’s education, as he would undoubtedly be forced to mingle with them in the future. Besides that, his mentor was reluctant to teach him magic. He felt his own style, created through the necessity brought about through war, was too narrow. Better to give the masters at the Grand Hall a blank state to mold.
“I understand that you attend the Hall. It is a good place to learn but my teacher tells me they are unfocused. It is amazing there exists one place to learn a hundred things. Victory has no place like that. Our orders teach one thing. How to fight.” Lancecain shook his head. “If you had learned from the Duelists for a year, you would be far more capable.”
Robert sneered. Despite the pleasant tone, or maybe because of it, he was almost sure he was being criticized and he didn’t have to take such from someone who hadn’t made an impact in the fighting either. “Yeah? How much fighting did you do?”
Lancecain sighed. “Very little. We are meant to bring down titans but Alana didn’t call on us, giving the task to her lovers instead. A wise decision. Duelists need a contingent of well-coordinated knights to subdue a target while a lethal strike is prepared. The elf apparently only needs her fists. You may remember my teacher taking down the first titan we encountered.”
Robert thought back to the pass between the Peaks and the flash of light that preceded the first titan falling. “You have the light affinity?”
“I do.”
“You…what’s your relationship with Alana?”
The handsome young knight smiled crookedly, confusion evident. “We have been friends for many years.”
“Just friends?” The chances of two people with the light affinity having no relation in one place, even one as populous as Victory, was rare. Three people having the light affinity but no relation was incredibly rare. Bordering unbelievable.
“Do you think we have some other relation?”
“No.” While Robert was filled with disbelief, pressing the issue would be impolite.
“You are rather worried for Alana. It’s good to know she has friends at the Hall.”
“We…” He almost said they weren’t friends. And they weren’t by most standards. They hadn’t interacted in a cordial way since those stolen moments during the qualifiers. That didn’t make them friends. Alana had simply left a good impression on him. One exaggerated by his near instant dislike of Lourianne Tome that had grown into a proper grudge.
But he couldn’t say all that.
It was too bad he had Arthur to say it for him.
“They aren’t friends. Boy has some weird one-sided fascination with the girl,” the pirate son was quick to interject. “Which I don’t get. I mean, there are prettier girls with a lot less danger surrounding them, but the idiot is determined to fish troubled waters.”
“It’s not like that!”
“And he’s still insisting he doesn’t have a crush.”
It wasn’t a crush. He didn’t want to sleep with her. Not that he would decline if such a situation came about, an event easier to imagine with his mind well lubricated. No, Robert simply had a conscience and it hurt to imagine a good person like Alana caught in the clutches of an unrepentant villain like Lou.
“It’s perfectly understandable. Alana is a good woman. She’s determined, driven, just, and loyal. She is also plenty attractive. Anyone would be lucky to have her as a partner.”
Robert frowned. The way he was talking…
Again, Arthur was quick to voice Robert’s thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re lusting after her too?”
Lancecain’s smile wilted with embarrassment. “No more than any man lusting for a good woman, I suppose. I don’t have special feelings for her, if that is what you mean.”
“Sure didn’t sound like it.”
“Ah, well. It is simply a position I’ve had ample time to consider. Victory has had the great fortune of producing at least one light caster every generation to pass on the legacy of my teacher. I will be the next to carry the burden and will hope another is born to take it from me when the time comes. My teacher was keen to remove a bit of the uncertainty. He often spoke of a possible union between us.”
“She was your intended?!” Robert exclaimed. He’d heard nothing about this. Not that he was in a position to. Alana didn’t consider him a friend so why would she discuss such sensitive topics with him?
Arthur laid a hand on the young knight’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. If there was anyone to lose your woman to, it’s Lou. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“She wasn’t my woman or my intended. It was something discussed by my mentor, but the duke is of the mind to let his children make their own decisions. It was always Alana’s choice and her concerns lied more in developing her strength than developing a relationship.” He chuckled. “Hearing she had brought back a lover surprised me to no end. Especially when I met Lady Tome. A more interesting pair I couldn’t imagine.”
“Hm.”
“Ugh. An idiot too stupid to know when he’s in love and another idiot who’s letting his women choose him instead of the other way around.” Arthur drained the rest of his cup. “You both need a good lay. I’d take you both out on the town but there’s nowhere to go in this wasteland. No offense.”
“Was that meant for me?” the young knight asked. “Then no offense taken. To me, there is beauty in the north, but our land is inhospitable to outsiders.”
“I could say the same for my home.” Despite everything Robert had heard about how terrible Graywatch was, the pirate son always got a wistful look in his eyes when he thought about it. It made him the slightest bit curious. “We’ll have to do this at my place next time.”
“Perhaps. Seeing the interesting characters coming through Victory has made me curious about the rest of the kingdom.”
“Then why not leave?” Robert asked. A better question would be why stay. He couldn’t understand why anyone besides the James, with their unrivaled status, would want to be here.
Lancecain turned his head toward the looming mountains. “Duty. Tradition. That’s what most would tell you. The truth? I love it here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else and will gladly lay down my life to protect my home.”
Robert swallowed at the conviction behind his words. He knew he was meant to be a hero but the definition of that role remained blurry. Would he fight for the weak? Fight for the crown? Would he be beholden only to himself, deciding for himself what constituted a threat and how to handle it?
Lancecain’s goals were much narrower but also clearer. He was a knight of Victory. He would fight for it and he would raise another disciple to fight for it when the time came. Nothing more, nothing less. The young man radiated purpose. It was a little enviable. Robert affirmed his own determination. One day, a young aspiring hero would think the same of him.
“Come on, then.” Lancecain grabbed their shoulders and led them toward the drinks table. “Both of you are still standing and have too many crowns. That’s unacceptable for the Rites of Alana’s first campaign. We shall drink until we can no longer tell the truth from the war stories.”
Celebrating after a victory was a natural.
After a breakthrough during training or if he did particularly well in a hunt, Robert’s mentor, Sir Quintana, would take him out for a nice meal or soak with him in one of the more extravagant bathhouses. Nobles threw banquets to celebrate everything from the birth of an heir to their dog’s birthday. The hunters liked to go for drinks after a job.
Robert wasn’t surprised that Victory had a custom of celebrating the completion of a campaign. He did have doubts about how successful it would be, the mood in the fort being ambiguous as it was. The stern northerners whispered together in the shadows of buildings and the hunters were anxious to leave. The only thing that kept them from bolting was their pay. It was also what lured them to the Witness Circle, a place that would likely haunt their nightmares for the rest of their lives.
The night started as awkwardly as Robert expected. The north was always cold but nights were especially bad. The quiet snowfall dusting the shoulders and heads of those that dared to leave their warm abodes didn’t set the mood for revelry, in his opinion. The fires spread throughout the field did little to help unless he stood right by the flames and there was a crowd around each one.
If he were in charge of the acolytes, as Alana was passing out payments to the leaders of the different forces that comprised her army, he would have taken the money and distributed the crowns back at the bunkhouse they were staying in. No mess, no fuss, and they would be gone by morning.
He wasn’t in charge though. Unfortunately, Will had thicker skin. He endured the awkward atmosphere and accepted Alana’s offer to share a drink. The hunters were the same, having developed a liking for the special drinks passed out every night during the campaign. It would be rude to be the only one refusing to join in the merrymaking, so Robert accepted a cup when it was handed to him.
One drink turned into three. Like magic, he no longer felt the chill of the night. Or the previous tension that made him so conscious of the strange affair. He stood in a crowd as a drunken hunter grossly exaggerated his accomplishments. A common theme. They seemed to be taking turns, each one telling more outrageous lies than the speaker before them in an effort to draw the biggest reaction from their crowd. They weren’t alone. The attending knights were also sharing stories, though they were more tame. Probably because they could handle the strong drink better.
“It’s Quin, isn’t it?”
Robert looked up. It took his blurry vision a moment to make out the face of the person addressing him. The moment the handsome features became recognizable, he felt a spike of envy. Robert considered himself good-looking. He hoped he’d grow a little taller but he had no trouble having a conversation with ladies when he attended balls. According to his mentor, being fit, strong, and wealthy enough to maintain a household was more than enough to have women throwing themselves at him.
The man in front of him could have none of those things and achieve the same, if not more, success. It was the kind of face that made Robert wanted to punch him, despite the friendly smile he wore.
Beside him was a familiar face. Arthur stood beside the stranger wearing a small grimace. He raised his cup and took a small sip, as if he was savoring the contents. Or pacing himself. A rare show of restraint from the pirate son.
“Who you?” Robert slurred, the shroom juice compromising his eloquence.
“Lancecain. A member of the Polar Duelists.”
He stuck out his hand out. Robert reflexively grabbed it, squeezing with all his strength. It was a contest no soldier could avoid, or so his mentor said. Lancecain proved the words right once again as he didn’t hesitate to participate, applying a crushing force to Robert’s fingers without the slightest change in his smile. It took an effort not to massage the aching digits once they released each other.
“Hope you don’t mind the sudden introduction. I don’t think I will have another chance to have a conversation with you and that would be a shame.”
“Oi,” Arthur grumbled. “Look at his eyes, mate. He looks like he’s half a cup from drowning. You need to use a lot less and much smaller words if you want to get through to him.”
“Hey!” Robert protested. He was pretty sure the pirate son had just called him stupid.
“Haha, you’re right. This is a time for remembrance and indulgence. I shall keep my business short. Quin, you would make a great Polar Duelist. On behalf of my order, I am officially inviting you to join us.”
Robert snorted softly. It wasn’t the first time he’d received such an offer. Normally, he refused them with more grace but the drink had robbed him of that as well and his thoughts showed on his face. “I decline.”
“You should think about it. Arthur tells me you have four affinities. I kept an eye on you throughout the campaign. You don’t have much experience with them, do you?”
Robert flinched. His training had focused on the sword. There were other demands on his time. Aside from learning to fight, he also received a noble’s education, as he would undoubtedly be forced to mingle with them in the future. Besides that, his mentor was reluctant to teach him magic. He felt his own style, created through the necessity brought about through war, was too narrow. Better to give the masters at the Grand Hall a blank state to mold.
“I understand that you attend the Hall. It is a good place to learn but my teacher tells me they are unfocused. It is amazing there exists one place to learn a hundred things. Victory has no place like that. Our orders teach one thing. How to fight.” Lancecain shook his head. “If you had learned from the Duelists for a year, you would be far more capable.”
Robert sneered. Despite the pleasant tone, or maybe because of it, he was almost sure he was being criticized and he didn’t have to take such from someone who hadn’t made an impact in the fighting either. “Yeah? How much fighting did you do?”
Lancecain sighed. “Very little. We are meant to bring down titans but Alana didn’t call on us, giving the task to her lovers instead. A wise decision. Duelists need a contingent of well-coordinated knights to subdue a target while a lethal strike is prepared. The elf apparently only needs her fists. You may remember my teacher taking down the first titan we encountered.”
Robert thought back to the pass between the Peaks and the flash of light that preceded the first titan falling. “You have the light affinity?”
“I do.”
“You…what’s your relationship with Alana?”
The handsome young knight smiled crookedly, confusion evident. “We have been friends for many years.”
“Just friends?” The chances of two people with the light affinity having no relation in one place, even one as populous as Victory, was rare. Three people having the light affinity but no relation was incredibly rare. Bordering unbelievable.
“Do you think we have some other relation?”
“No.” While Robert was filled with disbelief, pressing the issue would be impolite.
“You are rather worried for Alana. It’s good to know she has friends at the Hall.”
“We…” He almost said they weren’t friends. And they weren’t by most standards. They hadn’t interacted in a cordial way since those stolen moments during the qualifiers. That didn’t make them friends. Alana had simply left a good impression on him. One exaggerated by his near instant dislike of Lourianne Tome that had grown into a proper grudge.
But he couldn’t say all that.
It was too bad he had Arthur to say it for him.
“They aren’t friends. Boy has some weird one-sided fascination with the girl,” the pirate son was quick to interject. “Which I don’t get. I mean, there are prettier girls with a lot less danger surrounding them, but the idiot is determined to fish troubled waters.”
“It’s not like that!”
“And he’s still insisting he doesn’t have a crush.”
It wasn’t a crush. He didn’t want to sleep with her. Not that he would decline if such a situation came about, an event easier to imagine with his mind well lubricated. No, Robert simply had a conscience and it hurt to imagine a good person like Alana caught in the clutches of an unrepentant villain like Lou.
“It’s perfectly understandable. Alana is a good woman. She’s determined, driven, just, and loyal. She is also plenty attractive. Anyone would be lucky to have her as a partner.”
Robert frowned. The way he was talking…
Again, Arthur was quick to voice Robert’s thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re lusting after her too?”
Lancecain’s smile wilted with embarrassment. “No more than any man lusting for a good woman, I suppose. I don’t have special feelings for her, if that is what you mean.”
“Sure didn’t sound like it.”
“Ah, well. It is simply a position I’ve had ample time to consider. Victory has had the great fortune of producing at least one light caster every generation to pass on the legacy of my teacher. I will be the next to carry the burden and will hope another is born to take it from me when the time comes. My teacher was keen to remove a bit of the uncertainty. He often spoke of a possible union between us.”
“She was your intended?!” Robert exclaimed. He’d heard nothing about this. Not that he was in a position to. Alana didn’t consider him a friend so why would she discuss such sensitive topics with him?
Arthur laid a hand on the young knight’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. If there was anyone to lose your woman to, it’s Lou. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“She wasn’t my woman or my intended. It was something discussed by my mentor, but the duke is of the mind to let his children make their own decisions. It was always Alana’s choice and her concerns lied more in developing her strength than developing a relationship.” He chuckled. “Hearing she had brought back a lover surprised me to no end. Especially when I met Lady Tome. A more interesting pair I couldn’t imagine.”
“Hm.”
“Ugh. An idiot too stupid to know when he’s in love and another idiot who’s letting his women choose him instead of the other way around.” Arthur drained the rest of his cup. “You both need a good lay. I’d take you both out on the town but there’s nowhere to go in this wasteland. No offense.”
“Was that meant for me?” the young knight asked. “Then no offense taken. To me, there is beauty in the north, but our land is inhospitable to outsiders.”
“I could say the same for my home.” Despite everything Robert had heard about how terrible Graywatch was, the pirate son always got a wistful look in his eyes when he thought about it. It made him the slightest bit curious. “We’ll have to do this at my place next time.”
“Perhaps. Seeing the interesting characters coming through Victory has made me curious about the rest of the kingdom.”
“Then why not leave?” Robert asked. A better question would be why stay. He couldn’t understand why anyone besides the James, with their unrivaled status, would want to be here.
Lancecain turned his head toward the looming mountains. “Duty. Tradition. That’s what most would tell you. The truth? I love it here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else and will gladly lay down my life to protect my home.”
Robert swallowed at the conviction behind his words. He knew he was meant to be a hero but the definition of that role remained blurry. Would he fight for the weak? Fight for the crown? Would he be beholden only to himself, deciding for himself what constituted a threat and how to handle it?
Lancecain’s goals were much narrower but also clearer. He was a knight of Victory. He would fight for it and he would raise another disciple to fight for it when the time came. Nothing more, nothing less. The young man radiated purpose. It was a little enviable. Robert affirmed his own determination. One day, a young aspiring hero would think the same of him.
“Come on, then.” Lancecain grabbed their shoulders and led them toward the drinks table. “Both of you are still standing and have too many crowns. That’s unacceptable for the Rites of Alana’s first campaign. We shall drink until we can no longer tell the truth from the war stories.”
