By the time Yoren and Klaude reached their sixteenth summer, they were trusted enough to travel beyond the manor gates without a full escort. Not far, of course. Only to the nearest village, tucked between low hills and wheat fields that bent like waves beneath the wind.
Ruther allowed it on one condition.
"Return before sundown," he said, arms folded. "And do not seek trouble."
Klaude grinned. "Trouble finds us, Father. We never seek it."
Elswyth sighed, but she handed them a small pouch of coins. "Food, cloth, and nothing foolish."
They rode together down the familiar road, their horses walking at an easy pace. The morning air was fresh, and the sky stretched clear and blue above them. Yoren felt lighter than usual. The faint silver lines beneath his skin were barely visible now unless the light struck just right.
"You look like a man going to war," Klaude said, glancing at him.
"I am only going to buy bread."
"Exactly. Smile, or the baker will charge you double."
Yoren tried, awkward at first. Smiling had never come easily to him as a child. But around Klaude, it felt less forced.
The village was alive when they arrived. Merchants shouted prices. Children ran between stalls. The smell of roasted meat and fresh loaves filled the air.
A few villagers still looked at Yoren longer than necessary. Some remembered the rumors from years past. But most had grown used to seeing him ride beside Klaude Will. And time, more than medicine, had softened suspicion.
They dismounted near the well.
Klaude dragged Yoren toward the baker's stall first. "Bread," he declared dramatically. "And the honey cakes."
"We do not need honey cakes."
"We always need honey cakes."
They argued lightly as they chose their food, the baker shaking his head with amusement. Yoren paid while Klaude continued talking, charming the old man into slipping them an extra roll.
From there they visited a cloth merchant. Klaude insisted Yoren needed a proper traveling cloak, not the patched one he had worn for years.
"This one," Klaude said, holding up a dark green cloak. "It makes you look less like a wandering scholar and more like someone who might actually survive a duel."
"I do not plan to duel anyone."
"That is why you must look prepared."
Yoren rolled his eyes but allowed the purchase. When he tried it on, the fabric sat well upon his shoulders. He caught his reflection faintly in a polished metal tray and hardly recognized himself.
For a moment, he felt almost ordinary.
It was while leaving the cloth stall that Yoren noticed her.
A girl stood near a stand of woven baskets. Her hair was pale gold, almost shining beneath the sun, falling loosely down her back. She wore a simple blue dress, sleeves rolled slightly as though she had been helping with work. A few strands of hair brushed her cheek when the wind shifted.
She was looking directly at them.
More specifically, she was looking at Yoren.
Their eyes met.
Her face turned pink almost instantly. She looked down, pretending sudden interest in the baskets before her. A second later, she dared another glance, only to quickly look away again.
Klaude followed Yoren's gaze and smirked.
"Well now," he murmured. "It seems someone finds you interesting."
"She was only staring."
"Yes. At you."
Yoren felt warmth rise to his face, unfamiliar and unsettling. "Do not invent things."
Klaude laughed quietly. "I invent nothing. I merely observe."
They did not approach her. They did not speak. Yet as they left the marketplace, Yoren found himself glancing back once.
She was watching them again.
This time, when she noticed, she smiled just slightly before turning away.
The road home curved through rolling hills painted green and gold. Rather than take the direct path, Klaude guided his horse toward a higher trail that overlooked the valley.
"We have time," he said. "And the view is worth it."
They rode side by side, the village growing smaller behind them. Wind moved through the tall grass, and birds circled lazily overhead.
At the crest of the hill, they dismounted and let the horses graze.
From there, the world seemed endless.
Fields stretched toward distant woods. The manor could be seen faintly in the distance, its stone walls catching the sunlight.
Klaude sat upon a rock, staring outward.
"One day," he said quietly, "I will not merely guard these lands."
Yoren sat beside him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I will rise higher than a household knight. Higher than a captain." His eyes shone with something fierce and certain. "I will become Commander General of the King's armies."
The words hung in the air, bold and unashamed.
Yoren studied him. There was no doubt in Klaude's voice. No hesitation. Only belief.
"That is no small dream," Yoren said.
"Why should it be small?" Klaude replied. "If I must fight, then I will lead. If I must bleed, then I will bleed for something greater. I will command armies that bring order where there is chaos."
He turned to Yoren. "And you will stand beside me."
Yoren blinked. "Beside you?"
"Of course. Who else would I trust?"
For a moment, Yoren could not speak. The wind tugged at his new cloak, and he looked down at his hands, at the faint silver lines barely visible now.
A boy abandoned by his parents. A child once feared as a curse.
And yet here he sat, upon a hill, listening to his best friend speak of commanding armies as though it were already written.
"You truly believe I could?" Yoren asked softly.
Klaude frowned. "Believe? I know it."
Yoren looked back toward the distant manor, then toward the horizon beyond it.
In Klaude's dreams, he did not see weakness in Yoren. He did not see plague. He saw only strength.
A small smile formed on Yoren's face, steadier this time.
"Then I will grow strong enough," he said, "that when you stand at the front of an army, no blade will reach you without passing me first."
Klaude grinned. "That is the spirit."
They sat there until the sun dipped lower, speaking of battles not yet fought and lands not yet seen. They spoke not as children playing at war, but as young men shaping the future in their minds.
When at last they mounted their horses to return home, something had changed.
The hills had witnessed it.
Not a vow sworn aloud, not a formal oath before altar or king, but a quiet promise carried on the wind.
And somewhere behind them, in the small village between the fields, a blonde girl watched the road long after they had vanished from sight.