The sun had set and risen twice since lord Alderwall arrived, and each day, Kain and Thalen train rigorously under watch from the master at arms. Each received personal training from him during the evening.
The rat knight and the Alderwall cadets rest in luxurious inns several miles south in a city decorated with flowers and colourful trees that Kain had only heard stories about whilst eavesdropping on the older men whilst eating. It's said that wine flows from their jugs like water, and women similarly so. The Braemoor cadets sleep in straw beds and drink water from an old bucket used to pull water from the well.
Kain stands in line, rubbing his shorn hair and clean-shaven face, feeling the sharp features that slowly began to appear recently. His finger traces along his jaw as the oafish lord climbs the staircase up onto the parapets, his fat hands clutch the wooden railings as if his life depended on it, quickly darting further up with each step.
"You came to us commoners and lordlings barely able to swing a sword and will leave as strong men who will be the future of not just the houses you belong to or will belong to but the world." His jowls shake with each word that escapes his thin, cracked lips.
The Braemoor lord walks out of the shade next to the collection of lords and knights that had arrived the night prior.
"I am not one for speeches… the tournament will begin shortly… You have half the hour to prepare" Lord Braemoor". The first fight is between Kain and Roman.
"Best get warmed up", Thalen shoves a wooden training sword into Kain's arms with a quiet smile.
The two disappear into a corner of the courtyard.
Their clashing swords splinter, and sweat flies from them with each swing until a horn is blown and the cadets reassemble around an elevated platform outlined in wood and filled in with mud.
"Good luck to both of you…. And begin" the large lord takes one large step backwards, breathing out with relief as he retreats back to the middle of the parapet.
Kain steps up into the arena where a dulled steel sword sticks out of the mud, the opposing cadet plucks his own dull sword from the mud, wiping the thick sludge on the white dyed leather of his bracer.
Up high on the parapet an assortment of lords and knights lean over the wooden hand rails looking down on the cadets, kain sneaks a peak up at them spying a homely woman dressed in soiled yellow silks, a knight with the left eye of his helm covered over, another knight whose helm resembled a bird cloaked in a mantle of black feathers, two men with hair the colour of gold and clothes the same colour, one younger and the other older and finally a short man covered in pox scars leaving his face littered with craters.
A Hornblower lets out a long, drawn-out howl from the black carved goat horn, springing both cadets into action.
Kain slides forwards, dragging his feet through the mud, leaving deep grooves that fill with thick brown water. The opposing cadet steps forward, sinking his boots into the mud as it laps at the leather, dragging him into the ground with each step.
The cadet swings the dulled sword from Kain's chest, but falls short as his back foot struggles to break the seal of thick brown slime clutching at him.
A swing is returned to the cadet by Kain, splitting open a gash on the boy's forehead, much to the delight of his fellow cadets and the lord's watching from above.
The bird knight watches in silence, but the two in gold scowl down at Kain.
The boy stands again, blood trickling down into his right eye. He swings again, missing by miles and is kicked down into the mud with a yell.
Kain's sword rests lightly at the cadet's throat, its dull tip wiggling on top of his Adam's apple with each quivering cry.
"Kain of the Braemoor cadets", the Hornblower shouts fill the courtyard.
The Braemoor cadets quickly drown out the Hornblower with their cheers as Kain returns in line with them.
Hours of duelling slowly creep by as Kain stands half asleep, eyes growing heavy and twitching rapidly every now and then until the last match finally ends and the cadets are swept off into the lord's hall.
The hall was massive, with thick oak beams holding the roof up and hanging chandeliers and banners. The floor was covered with a carpet leading the way through the maze of tables and chairs until it circled the whole hall, wrapping around to the thick oak door studded with a metal outline.
Women, food and alcohol fill the tables. The boys sit around an empty table. Roulf waddled over with a cask of wine he had taken from a table of already drunk knights, too enamoured with one of the kitchen women that had loosened the strings of her shirt, showing off her cleavage as she danced with the short man Kain saw watching the fight.
The cask filled each of their drinks and then again and again and again until Kain was licking the sweet wine from the tap. He placed the keg on its side, kicking it far too hard; it clattered into the shins of a knight dressed in half the Alderwall silver platemail and half his own underclothes.
"You little bastard", the knight storms towards the boys and has his cup snatched from his hands the second he passes Thalen. He turns to snatch the cup back, but falls backwards as Kain places his foot on the chest of the knight as he groans on the carpeted floor.
The boys cheer, and Thalen slurps up the half-finished cup of ale, his light brown eyes closing in ecstasy as it drips from his pink lips.
Roulf grabs ahold of a serving woman as she passes by, he pulls the jug from her hands and lowers his own free hand to her backside, receiving a slap so hard a stream of saliva spills out of his mouth and onto the table. The other cadets laugh and snatch cups off the table, pouring more and more ale.
The jug empties soon enough, and Kain goes with it, trying to find more. He walks through doors and hallways, eventually finding the kitchen and a man atop the main counter, groaning and moaning.
"Where's the ale?" Kain slurs each word.
A woman springs up from between his legs, screaming as Kain continues through the kitchen searching through the cabinets until a bottle of wine finds itself in his hands.
He wobbles back to his feet, squinting to try and read the label before turning back to the open door from which the man and woman scuttle out.
He slams the bottle so hard on the oak table that it had left a dent in the damp wood, and the others had thought it had smashed, yet the glass was unscathed. A hefty flow of red wine slips from the mouth of the bottle and into his empty cup, filling it with the most beautiful red his eyes had ever seen, a deeper red than any blood or rose.
He drank from the cup sipping at the pure red wine inside it, sipping became drinking and drinking became gulping as he poured himself a second and a third and so on until the other boys began dropping one after the other, some fell into the arms of the women wandering the halls, some fell asleep in the halls or outside of it but none of the cadets could stand to drink with Kain any longer.
Roulf was the last to pass out from the drink, yet half the bottle was still left, and the hall was still bustling with knights and women. Kain approached a table of Braemoor and Alderwall knights and had not remembered leaving.
He awoke naked and in a bed not made of straw for the first time in years, a thin, fair skinned arm draped over his chest, the hand was rough with short yet well tended nails. His head throbbed, and his eyes ached with each thunderous pounding against his skull.
"Good morning", the arms moved, and the sheets lifted, slipping off of a young woman's body. Kain turned away, trying not to stare, yet found himself turning back stiffly.
She smirked, reaching her worn hands under the blanket and reaching for him. Her eyes were a greenish brown and face dabbed with freckles and all of a sudden, Kain found his face hardened, but the rest of him limp.
"Sorry", his voice filled with melancholy.
He drags his heavy body out of the bed and hastened to put his clothes on. He plucked the sword which the night prior had felt like it had weighed nothing in his hands, yet now seemed to slow him down as he attached it to his belt.
Countless months passed, the only changes in their routine was the odd reading lesson at night with Thalen and Kain's avoidance of the kitchens, the sun had long melted away any frost or chills left in the bog, yet Kain's eyes were as frigid as ever.
"Stop swinging and wash up, we leave tomorrow" Thalen tosses a wet rag at Kain, it lands in his hand with a wet slap. He clutches it, inspecting his hands as he cleans them, every knuckle slightly purple and covered in scar tissue, and his palm covered with calluses.
"Then what?" his voice low as he scrubs dirt from his face.
"Some of us will be chosen by a knight to squire for them, some will wander around trying to make a name that way" Thalen's smile seemed to glow brighter, yet it had not grown larger.
"To do what there is no war?" His hands rush through his black hair thick with grease.
"Bandits and the like. I heard the red gate is struggling so i suppose that's a good place as any to get some experience" Thalen polishes his sword, dragging a cloth up and down the blade he stared into the steel, admiring himself in its reflection.
Kain scoffs, placing the practice swords in a box before heading back to the barracks. Not a day goes by that home doesn't pass through his mind, the white flowers, her hair he had forgotten the feeling of, her large emerald eyes and freckled face, his father's cooking, all of it now foreign to him. A single tear creeps out of his stoic exterior, rolling down his poor excuse for a beard as he slumps into the straw bed.
"Cadets!" Garren's voice booms, shaking the resting boys to the bone, each of them springs out of their beds and chairs, standing as stiff as statues. Thalen slinks through the door, standing in the corner.
"Lord Corwin has finally sent a list of knights who want to take you, sorry sacks of shit, as their squires" A scroll rolls across the table.
The room lights with excitement as the cadets crowd around Thalen, who sits at the end of the table scroll in his shaking hands.
He unravels the paper, breaking the green wax seal holding it together, his slender fingers tracing the edge as he straightens it and places an empty candle holder at the top to hold it down. His smile fades slightly as his eyes trace up the page.
"What's it say?" Roulf slaps him across the head, his tone rushed and slap far too hard.
"It says you are to squire for a Ser Brandt Dunwald", the boys snigger and giggle at the now scowling Rolf.
"And it seems I'm squiring for Riven Ironhall" The corners of his mouth stretch as if they're about to split.
"Arin will squire for Ser Grellan, gale for Ser Berric" His eyes dart up at each man as he says their name before returning to the paper, slowly scanning the names for them to freeze at the top of the page, his face stunned and mouth hanging open.
"Spit it out then" Kain stands over his shoulder, struggling to remember the sound of each letter, only able to recognise his own name at the top of the page.
"Kain, you're to squire for Ser Mars Karsten" The whole barracks erupts with joy as Kain stands in the chaos, looking around at his comrades with concern.
"Quite" the low groan of Gallen silences the room. "Explain the noise", his eyes staring holes through Thalen.
"Ser Mars Karsten himself requested Kain as his squire" his toothy grin looked as if it was about to burst at the seams.
Garren's stone cold face remains as uncaring as it always had, only a slight smirk crept through his stubbled face.
"Ser, who is Mars Karsten?" Kain's eyes darted around as if they were looking for answers.
"The youngest royal knight ever appointed, he was watching the tournament with the other lords, ladies and knights. You must have impressed him." Gallen's bear paw-like hands ruffle Kain's thick black hair
"Now go to bed before I make you run laps all night" He leaves, and so does the sun, drowning the room in cold darkness, yet Kain felt warm and giddy, unable to sleep until late night, filled with thoughts of Siena and home.
The day finally comes, Kain rubs the sleep from his eyes and drool from his cheek as the other cadets crawl out of their bunks.
"Get dressed, we're to meet outside the gate in five minutes" Thalen, who was already dressed, stands at the door, arms crossed and a smile gleaming on his lips.
Kain clambers into his clothes, quickly fastening his chipped sword to its place at his hip.
They all rush outside the gate where Ser Gallen stands waiting on the thin wood and stone road watching as the sun rises in the distance shining golden rays of light onto the muddy field.
"Make something of yourselves or come back in a year to join the garrison as soldiers." His hands rest behind his gigantic back as the sun creeps over the hills and trees on the horizon, now shining light onto the cadets' faces.
"Now go make use of your time. If I see you here in a year's time, I'll make your life hell." He turns back into the castle, its colossal doors slam, flicking mud onto the back line of cadets.
Kain looks around, itching to say something, yet no words leave his mouth or fill his mind, only for Thalen to interrupt him before he could form a sentence.
"I'm off to find Ser Ironhall. Anyone without a request is welcome to join me, but I can't promise any work." The majority of cadets, even those with requests from knights, follow Thalen up the road.
Kain turns back, looking upon the grand castle he had spent too long in, the fresh air not polluted by sweat or damp filling his lungs. Kain follows behind the mob in happy silence, a slight smile gracing his face as he walks with thoughts of the white flower island and home.
"I'll see you soon, Thalen!" He turns as the mob marches left on the crossroads.
"If you're lucky, Kain!" Thalen waves as he walks backwards, his smile still glowing.
The road seems endless as the path of mud only marked by the occasional sign turns to paved dirt, his boots slowly dry in the sun as he enters the plain lands.
With each step, thoughts of his father and Sienna that he had long learnt to suppress rush into his mind, his steps quicken as the small island of white flowers comes into view after countless hours of walking faster than he ever had.
The women of the village wash clothes by the well, some of which he doesn't recognise. The sword on his hip jingles like a set of keys as his feet pick up faster and faster, nearly sprinting as he enters the village. Some of the young children playing on the outskirts of the village spot him and watch cautiously from the bank.
He slows down, trying to act unbothered. He walks into the tiny village, and not much had changed; the houses are still old, yet they seemed so much smaller than they had before he left. The women now stop their cleaning and look at him in confusion as he passes by.
"Another knight?" One of the younger women that Kain had not recognised speaks in hushed tones.
"No, it seems like it's that time of year already", an older woman called Marta returns to her washing with a bored expression. She looked so much older than he had remembered her, even accounting for the years he had been gone.
"Do you not recognise me, Marta?" He chuckles, turning to the group of women.
Marta raises her head, her boredom turning to excitement as she looks at his face.
"Kain?" she cheers, wrapping her soaked arms around him and squeezing.
"Kain? You've grown so much," another villager covers her mouth in shock.
"Ah, quickly go get the children!" Marta waves off the new girl.
Soon, a small group of what used to be children turn the corner and stare at Kain in confusion. His once soft features had turned sharp; only the sword resting at his side was the same as when he left, except for a few chips in its blade.
"Kain?" an older looking Yarrick walks out of a house, spear slung over his shoulder.
"My word, you've grown", He grins now standing eye to eye with Kain.
Kain looks around the village, scanning each alleyway and opening the window for a glimpse of Siena and her chestnut hair and emerald eyes that looked into his, which had filled him with such joy.
"She's not here", Yarrick coughs, clearing his throat.
"Where is she?" The smile on Kain's face slowly fades as the main square goes dead silent, the only noise being a slow drip from a bucket hanging over the well.
"A lord of Goldridge and his son rode through a few months ago, and the son took her with him. She's in Ridgeport." Yarrick leans against the spear.
"You shouldn't have said anything", Marta slaps Yarrick on the shoulder.
"And my father" Kain's face remains stoic and voice unshaken yet he begins to feel his eyes water.
"He will be back in a few hours. He left in the morning for some deer" Marta pats his shoulder.
Kain turns around, shoving open the door of his childhood home, slamming his bag into the floor and collapsing against the door as it slams behind him. Tears well in his eyes, slowly streaming down his face. His brow tightens, and his teeth clench as if they were going to break. He sits for hours until the door budges against his back.
"Kain?" His father knocks.
"It's been too long", Kain stands and smiles while opening the door.
His eyes were red and aching and swollen from the hours of periodic sobbing; he struggled to keep them open, almost falling into his father's arms as they both stand in the doorway opposite each other.
"I'm sorry father but I have to leave tomorrow." His voice, cold, unmelted by his father's warmth.
"No matter", he smiles "I caught a deer today, so eat your fill" As Kain looks through his still blurred vision, he can see the gray littered around his father's hair.
They eat and drink at the table, talking until they have to light candles to see. That night is filled with stories and tales of each of their lives until they both pass out in their chairs. The candles slowly melted into a puddle of yellow wax, spilling across the table as they both slept, resting their heads on the table.