Elias had been training for weeks now, harder than ever, determined to prove himself worthy of his future as a knight—whatever that might look like. His dedication was admirable, even if slightly misguided by the fact that he wasn't yet a knight and could still easily be caught up in one of the many silly schemes I'd orchestrated.
I, naturally, had a ringside seat to his endeavors. It wasn't merely because I had a bad habit of causing trouble. No, it was because I'd requested the royal groundskeeper position me in a very particular spot—top balcony, with the added benefit of an excellent pair of spyglasses.
It was during the fourth week of Elias's progressively tougher training that I caught wind of it.
Elias, who had always trained hard but never really with finesse, was suddenly moving with an unfamiliar grace. His punches were quicker, his stance firmer, and—was he smiling? Not in the old, hesitant way, but in a quiet, intense sort of smile that looked more confident than ever.
And then I saw it: poking out from under the edge of his tunic, just above his belt, was the badge.
My badge.
I'd given it to him weeks ago, naturally, but seeing it in use made my chest swell with an odd sort of pride. For a brief moment, I wondered if I'd overstepped—since I had no idea what kind of fallout it might cause. But then again, this was Elias. He would accept whatever I gave him and wear it like a promise unspoken.
That was when Master Odrick, the most experienced and crabbiest master-at-arms in the kingdom, marched over to Elias, his face etched in a perpetual scowl.
"Elias," he snarled. "You're fighting like mad. What've you got stashed under that tunic?"
Elias froze, his cheeks flushing. For an instant, I was sure he'd try to conceal the badge. But he didn't.
Master Odrick squinted and moved closer, examining Elias like a hawk circling prey. "Hmm. What's this? Some sort of token? Who provided you with this?"
Elias paused, his hand brushing over the badge absently, as though reassuring himself. "It's… a reminder, sir," he replied, his tone firm, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—affection, maybe. It wasn't uncertainty or guilt, just… something deeper.
"A reminder, eh?" Master Odrick squinted at him. "A reminder of what? This better not be some ridiculous trinket meant to distract you. You're here to train, not get lost in sentimental nonsense."
"It's not a distraction, sir," Elias said, his voice steady now. "It's… it's a reason."
Master Odrick didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over Elias's stance, weighing the seriousness of his words. Finally, he grunted. "Well, whatever it is, it seems to be doing the trick. Don't let it soften you up, though. The battlefield's no place for sentiment."
Elias said nothing, but I could see something smoldering in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
As Master Odrick strode away, muttering something about "keeping focus" and "staying sharp," Elias froze for a moment, hand still on the badge. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he returned to his training.
I felt an odd flutter of pride in my chest. Elias wasn't the same. He was stronger. More resolute. All because of a small piece of me—and my oh-so-excellent sense of theatrics.
I could almost hear him thinking, even from a distance: Whoever this is from… they want me to improve.
And in that moment, I knew that maybe it wasn't just Elias who needed to be protected. Maybe, someday, we could protect each other.