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 have slowly started 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 an hour to prepare" Lord Kain opens his eyes to see the candles laid out on the table, spilling frozen off the table. He sat on the doorstep fastening buckles and straps as he slowly put on his light armour, the sigil of Braemoor on his breast, a grey tower on a brown background. His father was still fast asleep when he left without a word.
The village was silent, not a single light in any of the houses. He walked through the streets and back out onto the road. A pit opened in his gut as he remembered the island he and Siena had spent countless hours playing on, but the sight of it filled his eyes with tears, so he stiffened his neck and continued down the dirt path.
His leather boots left tracks in the dirt as he stomped through the plains and into the forest in a daze. His eyes only wandered from the floor when he had reached the next village along the road.
Wooden walls raised around its perimeter, old and half-rotten, covered in moss. A single guard, wearing scarred armour, stood sentry with only a spear and a knife. Kain passed through, and he said nothing.
The village was covered with filth and moss as if it had been abandoned for years; only a gazebo with stairs in the centre stood in good condition, where the well would usually be.
The sun begins to lower into a thick green bed of leaves, and a pink light peaks through the branches, leaving the village in a cold, dark shadow.
Seconds before the rotted wooden gate on the other side of the village closed for the night, Kain slipped through, walking out into the night. He walked and walked and walked until blisters formed on the back of his foot and the sole of his left boot fell out mid-step.
He sat against a moss-covered rock and rummaged through the cumbersome canvas bag, pulling out a small hammer and a handful of nails. As he knocked the final nail in the ruffled leather, he spotted a group of men, one dressed in armour and a sword at his hip, in the distance, walking in the same direction he was.
A wooden sign sticks out of the dirt at a cross in the road. Kain looked around to see if the men were around before sounding out each letter.
"S-I-L-V-A H-O-L-L-O-W", he whispers to himself, blushing.
The sun set three times before Kain came across those men again. They sat on the side of the road, one was struggling to count coins, another boiled a foul-smelling stew in a cast-iron pot teetering on a few rocks, holding it above the fire. The last sat sleeping against a tree, wearing armour with a grey castle on a brown background on his breast.
"Where did you get that armour from?" Kain's teeth clenched together, and his sword hand jerked to his hilt.
"Never mind, lad, keep on moving", the one tending to the soup looked up at Kain.
"Answer me!" Kain roared. The armoured man, a good foot taller than the other, stirred to the sound of Kain's yell.
"Bugger off!" the cook shot spit through his few remaining teeth and into the soup as he returned the yell.
"That's it", the one counting coins stood drawing a sword from the bag.
The pot toppled over as Kain kicked it into the cook's lap, spilling the scolding soup of potato, onion and deer across his legs and groin. The screams awoke the false knight, but before he could stand, the coin counter's sword hand was flying through the air with it still firmly in his grasp.
Blood sputtered through the air, dripping onto the grass and down the man's arm as he clutched at the stump. The man wearing his fellow cadet's armour staggers to his feet and draws the sword from the sheath hanging from a branch.
Kain steps back as the sword cuts through the air, only a few inches from burying into his shoulder. Kain returns the blow, but it only bounces off the armour, leaving a small scar on the breastplate.
"I'll kill you like I killed that oaf, " the larger man yells as he jumps over the squalling cook, and the campfire almost falls on top of the boy.
Kain spins to the slide, cutting a deep gash in the back of the man's knee, cutting through the padded gambeson and sending him to the floor. As he swings, aiming for the neck, the thief twists to the side, flinging Kain's sword from his hand and through the trees.
Before the tall man could stand up, Kain leapt off the floor, landing with both feet on the man's back, slamming him back to the floor. His fists crunch into the helmet, leaving gory cracks that pour blood onto the helmet as it dents under the constant blows.
His hand reaches for the helmet, dented and drenched in blood. He lifts the visor and slides his dagger from its scabbard and into the man's eye as he kicks and screams. Blood pours from the now-empty socket as his body goes limp and the dagger slides back out of the wound.
"That should have been harder", Kain staggers to his feet, turning to the cook.
His face had turned a pale white, and his wet clothes clung to his body. His hands shook, and the palms were red raw. Kain plucked the false knight's sword from the ground and stood over the crying cook. He tilts his head up, staring into Kain's icy blue eyes. The sword plunges into the man's throat, pooling blood around its blade, and then draining through the wound as it glides out.
Last is the handless man, he struggles to his feet as Kain walks over. His stump reaches for the knife at his hip, only to recoil in agony as it brushes against his shirt. Kain's sword flashes from his side, cleaving through the man's neck and stopping halfway through. He puts a boot on the man's chest, pulling three times before the sword struggles free from the man's throat.
Kain looks around the now silent camp. The fire was half extinguished from the soup, and three bodies littered across the forest floor. The bastard sword in his hands was chipped and poorly tended to. After crawling on hands and knees, digging through leaves, Kain eventually finds his own sword with a large chip down the blade. He rummages through the men's bags and clothes, finding a few silver coins, three daggers, a short sword, countless amounts of hardtack and a bag filled with dried meat.
The forest was silent; the noise of Kain hammering a stick into the dirt with his palm was instantly swallowed by the thick trees and bushes that littered either side of the path. He pulls off the dented remains of Roulf's helm from the thief and places it atop the stick before returning to the road again.
More days than he could remember passed, and the already large trees turned larger with red bark. Animals filled the forest, giant deer taller than a man, packs of dog-like creatures that dominated the river the path followed and a large cat that he had watched kill one of the giant deer a night ago. Every now and then, he would come across an animal track the size of his own hand and with five claws that dug into the muddy floor.
He walks further, seeing another one of the signs that were placed at every crossroad, a foul smell itching at his nose with each step closer to the sign. As he approached the sign and recognised the letters that spelt out Silvahallow, an ear-splitting roar, thick, warm air that stunk of rotten meat and iron.
Kain's icy blue eyes widen as he turns to see a furry black paw that swats him off his feet and across the grass. He catches himself rolling to face the creature. It had matted black fur covered with mud and a large red stain surrounding a wound on its side, writhing and wriggling with maggots. The gaping maw opens, and a roar unfittingly strong for a creature that smelled like that and with that many missing teeth, even those that remained were covered with black and chipped more than not.
Blood trickled down Kain's back and down his legs where the creature's claws had ripped through the metal, the gambeson, his underclothes and finally his skin, leaving shallow trenches of gore where the claws dug into flesh. Kain returns the roar and unsheathes his sword. Both of them charged towards each other in a full sprint. Kain rolled across the dirt as it stood on its hind legs, barely missing him as it slammed back to the floor. Kain's blade found its side and struggled to pierce the thick hide.
The creature turned, snapping its giant teeth onto his sword arm with such force that it broke both of the bones in his forearm. The free hand snaps to the dagger on his waist and plunges repeatedly into the creature's face and neck. Blood sputters from its neck and squirts onto Kain's pale, turned face like crimson freckles.
The trees, dirt and mass of fur in front of him were growing blurry, and the edges of his vision turned blacker and blacker. A muffled yell lightly filled his ears as the bear's teeth let go of his gory arm. It stood again and fell in an instant, this time without its head.