A Hero's Journey: Rivalry

     Reynold smiled as he opened the round gold locket in his gauntleted hand and gazed fondly at the miniature paintings of three white Blumaroos within – a female one with curly hair and a bright smile on one side, and two small Blumaroos grinning widely as they clutched wooden swords on the other.

     Realizing that someone else was looking at his locket, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed a blue Lupe in plate armour, clutching a sword in its scabbard.

     “I noticed that you never leave without your locket, sir,” the Lupe remarked. “Aren’t you afraid of losing it?”

     The yellow Blumaroo gently closed the locket and gripped it tightly as it hung from his neck. “Always. But this is how I’ve always brought my family along with me while also making sure they’re safe at home in Trestin.”

     “Melissa, and your sons…”

     “Reuben and Rohane,” said Reynold. He sighed, placing his hand over his heart. “I miss them. I had hoped to retire from the Order so I could focus on teaching them and watching them grow up, but unfortunately, Ramtor had to throw a wrench into my plans, so to speak.”

     “You’re going to leave the Order?” The Lupe gasped as he buckled his sword onto his belt.

     “Not now, of course. Not while Ramtor threatens our kingdom. But it’s something to think about.” He stood up slowly and stroked his chin in thought.

     “What is it, sir?”

     Reynold frowned slightly. “Ramtor and his minions don’t fight with the same honour and restraint as Darigan soldiers or even Kass’ hordes. If I don’t make it back to my family, Jeran…”

     “Don’t say that!” Jeran blurted out before he could stop himself.

     “I’m getting old, and one day I may not return from battle. I want this locket to return home if I can’t. I want Melissa, Reuben and Rohane to know that they are always with me, even if I’ve had to leave them more times than I would have wanted.”

     Jeran reached out to rest his hand on Reynold’s shoulder.

     “Master…”

     “This is why I want to leave the Order one day. I have served Meridell long enough. There will come a day when I will pass my sword to my sons, and they will stand beside you, in my place.” Reynold smiled again and placed his hand over Jeran’s. “And didn’t I tell you not to call me Master? We became equals the moment you were knighted. You’re no longer my squire.”

     “But you were my knight-master. I learned so much from you. And I believe you can still do more.”

     “Maybe, but even I have my limits.” The yellow Blumaroo reached up to unclasp the locket chain. “I also have a duty to my family.”

     Jeran was silent.

     “I understand. If you leave, the Order loses a valuable officer – “

     “No.” Reynold raised a hand. “It will still have you, and the others, and one day, Reuben and Rohane as well. Promise me that when that day comes, you’ll look after them, just as I looked after you.”

     The younger knight nodded. “I promise.”

     * * *

     The cellars of Meridell Castle held a huge selection of juices, grog, soda, and other such drinks stored away in huge vats and barrels. It also served as a storage area for anything that couldn’t be stored anywhere else, like old furniture with graffiti like “Skarl smells” or “Chet Flash Wuz Here”, tattered tapestries, tarnished portrait frames that no longer held portraits, and other odds and ends that the castle staff or King Skarl himself couldn’t bear to throw away. Wall sconces held old, barely used torches, and the wooden steps leading down creaked, cracked, and occasionally, collapsed under a walker’s weight.

     But what most castle inhabitants didn’t know was that the cellars were also where the initiation for new knights took place. After being inducted into the Order officially, they were taken downstairs for the secret initiation rites, known only to the knights of Meridell – and to those to whom the knights choose to reveal the rites, often with a hastily added warning of, “but don’t tell anyone else” included.

     Everything that could be pushed to one side was pushed to one side, except for crates, benches and chairs that were filled with expectant knights. A wide circle had been drawn in the middle of the floor in chalk, and the rusting chandelier overhead and the torches were lit.

     In the middle of the circle, a burly yellow Lupe held out a bowl toward a blindfolded white Blumaroo.

     “Reach out your hand, newbie, and feel the eyeballs of the knights who failed this initiation,” the Lupe intoned in an exaggerated creepy voice. “If you listen to everything we tell you, you won’t end up like them.”

     The Blumaroo did as he was told, and grimaced when he felt small, firm spheres and thin, wet slender things under his fingers.

     “…This is Pasta and Eyes, isn’t it?”

     Tuffold, the Lupe, sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s Pasta and Eyes.” He looked at Jeran, who was standing outside the circle. “I told you he wouldn’t buy that creepy story about the eyeballs.”

     “Yeah, I figured,” Jeran replied, standing up. “Okay, newbie, remove your blindfold. You’ve reached the last part of the initiation.”

     The Blumaroo reached up to untie the large handkerchief over his eyes. He removed it, blinking as his vision returned.

     “Draw your sword. For your final test, you will be fighting me.” Jeran grinned as he held up his own sword. “Here are the rules: only swords, and the first one to step outside the circle loses. It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose – “

     “Because we can’t remember the last time anyone won against Jeran in an initiation,” Tuffold interrupted.

     “Shouldn’t we go easy on him?” a striped Kougra asked, raising his hand like a schoolchild. “I mean, the rules say the newbie’s opponent should be a high-ranking knight, not necessarily the highest ranking knight…”

     “Any other knight in this room would be too easy for him,” a blue Wocky replied. “In case you forgot, we’re inducting the famous adventurer warrior who led his team to victory in five Neopian lands. One of Sir Reynold’s sons, and a swordmaster in his own right. Selecting Jeran as his opponent was a unanimous decision.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, but if you win, you can ask us knights for a little something – well, within reason.”

     “And then after that, we get to sing the knights’ Hymn of Loyalty as we formally welcome the great Sir Rohane!” the Kougra exclaimed. “Right, Danner?”

     Danner nodded. “All according to custom, Oakley. I’ve got the new initiate’s copy of the lyrics – “

     “Wait, wait, we have to sing?”

     “That’s what you’re concerned about?” asked Jeran.

     “Father never said he had to sing for his knighthood!” Rohane pointed out. “Okay, if I win against Jeran, may I sit out of the singing?”

     “What? But that’s tradition!” Danner objected.

     “We did say that if he wins the duel, he gets a small boon from us,” a female royal Blumaroo said, perched primly on the edge of a bench that had seen better days and was etched with “Chet Flash Wuz Here” in untidy uppercase. “Being excused from singing the Hymn of Loyalty sounds reasonable to me.”

     A strawberry Pteri sitting next to her nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, this is a lot better than Jaco asking for a poker table in the war room.” She merely grinned when a speckled Gelert glared at her. “But really, shouldn’t it be time to retire this idea of initiation?”

     “Not just yet,” said Tuffold, watching Jeran and Rohane step into the middle of the chalk circle with barely contained anticipation. “Not till we see the result of the duel of the century.”

     “Deal,” said the blue Lupe, nodding sagely and offering a hand. “If you beat me in your initiation match, you get a free pass from the Hymn of Loyalty. If you don’t, you sing with the rest of us.” He shrugged. “A lot of knights aren’t exactly the best singers, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

     Rohane shook Jeran’s proffered hand. “May the best warrior win.”

     “I plan to.” Jeran winked as Danner walked over to the circle and stopped at the edge.

     “Swords in the guard position!” the Wocky announced. “On three, fight fair.” Then he paused and turned to Tuffold. “I’m betting three hundred Neopoints on Jeran.”

     “Nice,” the yellow Lupe responded, placing his feet on a woebegone stool and leaning against the stone cellar wall. “My money’s on Rohane. Five hundred.”

     Jaco chuckled. “Six hundred on Jeran.”

     “Six hundred on Rohane,” the Pteri piped up, producing a pouch of money from her tunic. She smirked at Jaco. “Feeling lucky?”

     Danner shook his head and turned away from the flurry of knights counting out Neopoints excitedly for their bets and shifting around to get better views of the impending duel. “For your final test, cross swords with one of Meridell’s best knights and show us your skills! And if you win, you…” He paused and shrugged, his next words anticlimactic. “You get to not sing.”

     “I look forward to not singing,” Rohane declared, his blade at the ready.

     “One!” Danner shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cellar. “Two! Three!”

     Right on “three”, Jeran lunged forward, swinging his sword high. But Rohane was ready, and parried it, digging his heels into the floor so the impact wouldn’t send him sliding out of the chalk circle. The Lupe bore down on him as they locked blades before breaking away to search for an opening. Each strike was met with a swift block, each move from one complemented by a dodge from the other. It was like watching a precisely choreographed dance that left all the knights speechless.

     Or rather, almost all the knights.

     “I wish I brought a snack, Beryl,” Oakley whispered to the strawberry Pteri as he wiggled in his seat. “This is so exciting! I’ve always wanted to see for myself how Rohane fights, especially against someone like Jeran! Ooh, did you see that! Jeran ducked that pass so fast, I almost missed it!”

     “We’ll miss more if you don’t keep quiet,” Beryl whispered right back, jabbing him lightly with her wing.

     Jeran’s slash made a graceful, silvery arc in the air that forced Rohane to evade it with a move that looked more like a twirl on a dance floor. The Blumaroo retaliated by thrusting his blade forward, only for it to meet Jeran’s once more, and the sound of clashing steel could be heard again and again as they both struck. Finally, Rohane veered away, successfully jumping over a sweeping strike aimed at his ankles.

     “I’m impressed!” said the blue Lupe excitedly, even as his forehead was beaded with sweat. “You’re no longer Sir Reynold’s little scamp!”

     “Scamp?” Rohane repeated with a smirk as he angled his sword to catch Jeran’s before it could reach his chest. “Reuben’s the bigger scamp!”

     “You were both scamps! You and your brother!”

     “Well, this scamp is going to win!”

     Rohane traced a vertical crescent that forced Jeran on the defensive, but Jeran was not about to remain defensive for long. He sidestepped before performing a series of chopping motions that would have shredded Rohane’s shirt if the latter hadn’t been quick on his feet.

     In the audience, Oakley began to shake Tuffold while Beryl whispered excitedly into the royal Blumaroo’s ear.

     “Who’s winning?” Oakley asked. In response, Tuffold placed his palm squarely on the short Kougra’s head and turned Oakley’s face back toward the duel.

     A riposte from Rohane failed to reach its mark as Jeran parried it expertly. As the white Blumaroo continued to relentlessly slash and swing, Jeran kept on defending, jaw set in determination. But as Jeran twisted his sword to block, Rohane suddenly changed the pass he was about to execute – and sent the blue Lupe’s weapon spinning out of his grasp and out of the circle.

     A ringing silence followed, all eyes on Jeran staring at his now empty hands before shifting to Rohane, who smiled triumphantly, sword still upraised from executing the winning pass.

     “Guess that means I’m excused from the singing.”

      Then the audience burst into cheers and applause.

     “Guess this means I won my bet,” said Tuffold, grinning at a crestfallen Danner. The yellow Lupe stood up along with several other knights and began crowding around Rohane, chattering excitedly about the initiation duel.

     “Congratulations!” Oakley gushed, grabbing Rohane’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Welcome to the Order! Er, you were already inducted into the Order after King Skarl knighted you, but…”

     “Welcome to this crazy family,” said Danner, chuckling sheepishly. “At least I lost only three hundred Neopoints…”

     “I lost too, but that means things are gonna get even more interesting around here,” Jaco pointed out, clapping Rohane sharply on the back. “Nice job. You put on a great show.” Next to him, Beryl and the royal Blumaroo clapped appreciatively.

     All of them seemed to have forgotten Jeran briefly, who finally unfroze to pick up his sword, only to freeze again as he stared at Rohane and the other knights conversing animatedly.

     To be continued…