A Hero's Journey: Squire

     “Here, try this. Do the exercises Rohane taught you.”

     Cavall stared at the thin sabre that Reuben offered him. Gingerly the Blue Cybunny took it, slightly surprised at the weight of it in his hand. But he did as he was told, feeling self-conscious as Reuben and Rohane sat at the back of the workshop. Tables, stools, and crates had been moved away to create an empty space for the Blue Cybunny to try out the sabre. Next to the two White Blumaroos was a display of swords of varying shapes and sizes – though Cavall noticed, as he spread his feet and raised the sabre, that all the swords were shorter and lighter than his castle-issued blade.

     With Reuben and Rohane watching, Cavall felt quite self-conscious as he attempted a sideways slash. He nearly overbalanced, unused to the size of the sabre, and had to scramble back into position.

     Rohane furrowed his brow and stroked his chin as he observed his squire at work. “As I thought. The standard swords for squires are too heavy for him. But there’s still something – “

     As if on cue, Cavall staggered, fumbled a pass, and dropped the sabre onto the floor with a ringing sound that echoed throughout the shop. In a flash, Reuben stood up and swooped down to pick it up.

     “I’m sorry,” the Cybunny mumbled.

     Reuben chuckled and ruffled Cavall’s ears. “Heh, happens to all of us. There was this time Rohane sent his sword into a bush – “

     “He already knows that story,” said Rohane, shooting Reuben a deadpan stare. “And which one of us is the better swordsman now?”

     “No, no, you got a point, bro.” Reuben winked. “Hah, point. Get it?” While Rohane groaned, the swordsmith selected a smallsword from the display rack and passed it to Cavall. “Here, and keep in mind this is one of the lightest blades I’ve ever made. You’ll need to work on your control and parrying with it, but you can exploit openings in your opponent’s defence more easily. See? Even I know a thing or two about swordsmanship!”

     When Cavall took the smallsword in his hand, he transferred it from one hand to another.

     “This…it really is light.”

     “That’s why we call it a smallsword. Ready to start the routine over?”

     “Bro, you’re a tough master,” said Reuben, punching Rohane lightly in the shoulder.

     “How am I a tough master?”

     At first, as he thrust and traced patterns in the air with the smallsword, Cavall was surprised at its weight and tried to adjust his stance to compensate. Though he went through the motions with his fair share of fumbles, his footwork was still scattered and frantic, and had to correct his posture a few times after Rohane reminded him, somehow, he managed to finish the basic routine without dropping the smallsword once. Sweating and panting, Cavall stopped and quickly proffered it back to Reuben.

     “Hey, that’s much better!” said Reuben, giving Cavall a thumbs-up before taking the smallsword. “What do you think, Professor?”

     “Don’t call me Professor!” After scowling at his brother, Rohane turned to face Cavall with an approving smile and a nod. “That was an improvement, Cavall. I knew you could do it.”

     The Blue Cybunny couldn’t help but smile back. “T-Thank you, sir. I…I finally did it, without dropping my weapon. All thanks to you.”

     “And now…it’s Reuben’s turn to work and create your new smallsword.” He inclined his head toward Reuben, who had already begun to rummage about in his stocks of brass and steel sheets.

     “Um, sir, Mister Reuben – “

     The bigger White Blumaroo straightened up, his arms full of steel. “That’s Master Reuben to you – hah, just kidding. I told you, call me Reuben!” He placed them all onto a crate and began firing up the forge. “What is it?”

     “If it’s okay, may I watch you work?”

     Reuben snorted. “Okay? You’ve got quite the impressionable squire here, Rohane. Of course, it’s okay! No – I need you here because we’re going to personalise your smallsword. We could carve a ‘C’ into the pommel, or maybe I could work a pattern into the hilt…so stick around and watch a real master at work!”

     * * *

     And stick around Cavall did.

     He watched with rapt interest as Reuben created an outline of a sleek blade on a sheet of paper, using his smallsword as a reference, and marked out the shape onto the steel itself. The White Blumaroo gestured for Cavall and Rohane to keep their distance as he began hammering away at the steel to streamline it further. Every now and then he would heat the metal in his forge, beads of sweat forming over his brow with each strike of the hammer and with each trip to the forge.

     “When I said you could stick around,” said Reuben in between his hammering, raising his voice, “I didn’t mean you’d stick around for the entire thing. Didn’t your teachers give you homework?” He wiped his forehead with a thick handkerchief.

     It was Rohane who answered instead of Cavall. “I’ve seen you work several times, but it’s still something, seeing you in action.”

     “Flattering my ego isn’t going to shape this sword but carry on.”

     “Very funny. Cavall, if you’re feeling hungry, you can always go back into the house. It might take hours for Reuben to have your smallsword hammered out and sharpened if not days. Don’t worry about Reuben’s ego.”

     “I-It’s all right, Sir Rohane. I had a lot to eat for lunch. And I can read up on etiquette while waiting for Master Reuben to finish my smallsword.”

     “Hmm, maybe you should call me Master Reuben…”

     “Do you really need your mouth to be able to forge a sword?”

     The only response Rohane got was a series of rhythmic hammer blows; he was sure the beats were meant to annoy him. Cavall hid a chuckle as he opened his book, but constantly looked up at Reuben, enthralled by the idea of a sword being made just for him.

     * * *

     Much as Cavall didn’t want to miss a moment of seeing his smallsword taking shape, the sun had begun to set, and it was almost time for dinner. Reuben muttered something about tweaking the handle as he and Rohane left the shop, while Cavall stayed behind to gather his study materials. The excitement of waiting for his new weapon to be ready put Olivia’s cryptic revelation out of Cavall’s mind – but only for a time. As the Blue Cybunny crossed the grass toward Rohane’s old family home, Olivia seemed to emerge out of nowhere, at the perfect time when there was no one else with him.

     Cavall went over all his options. He could run into the shop, or just run away, or tell Olivia he was too busy to talk…

     “Hello, Cavall.”

     “H-Hello,” he said, his voice coming out smaller and softer than he had hoped. “Miss Olivia. Um…I thought you were inside, with Miss Melissa…”

     The purple Lupe nodded once and cut to the chase. “You are not who you say you are.”

     “I…” Cavall’s words caught in his throat, tangled against each other. “I don’t know…what you’re talking about.” Lying about his name had become second nature since Theodosia found him, but now, the panic was welling up inside him. Somehow, he knew simply denying whatever Olivia told him would not work. And there was always that nagging feeling that Olivia would suddenly turn away and decide to tell Rohane.

     The small mercy was that Olivia didn’t go anywhere else. But her eyes twinkled with mild amusement.

     “Do I? Cavall, you are always on edge around me. Apprehensive. Nervous. It confirms what I know – that you have a secret you do not want even your knight-master to know. A secret that may have something to do with the fire at the Wincott manor four years ago.”

     Instead of saying anything, a strangled noise escaped him. He took one step back, willing his body to move, to get away, to tune Olivia out, but he was frozen. He wondered if the Lupe knew strange, immobilising magic on top of her clairvoyant powers.

     “I’m…” He swallowed, fingering the strap of his haversack. “I was an orphan. Theodosia found me, and raised me until she died. I have…nothing to do…with the Wincott manor.”

     “The woods consumed by flame / The child’s pain the same / Wandering the wild / A lost mysterious child / Walking the earth / A child of great worth. Still, they say Lord Lotham and Lady Elesia do not have children.”

     “They don’t,” Cavall blurted out, though his mind lingered on that last line. Him? A child of great worth? “Wasn’t that what everyone said? And now…and now they’re gone.” He said the last words with as much conviction as he could muster. Because he was right, wasn’t he? His parents were as good as dead if he had not heard from them for years.

     “I arrived sometime after the fire was put out,” Olivia said. “I listened to the trees, the land…and they all told me the same thing. Though Lord Lotham and Lady Elesia Wincott were not sighted, a child ran away from the manor. Not long after that, a young Cybunny was found wandering the streets. Sir Rohane told me when one of the castle cooks found you. Coincidence, perhaps? Or perhaps the Wincotts had more secrets than we thought?”

     The squire tried to find more words to justify himself but couldn’t find them anymore. He stared up at Olivia’s piercing gaze, hoping he could convince her that she was absolutely wrong.

     But he knew, deep in his heart, that she was absolutely right.

     Cavall slid one hand into his pocket with the Wincott medallion and fingered the gold engraving. But he didn’t dare pull out the remnant of his identity where others would be able to see it – and confirm Olivia’s vision.

     “Will you tell them?” he finally asked with bleak resignation. “That I’m…I’m hiding something from them?”

     There was a flash of something in Olivia’s eyes. Something that looked like pity or understanding.

     “No,” she said, and this took Cavall aback more than anything she had told him so far. “It is not my place to tell anyone. But that is up to you. The time will come when the truth will save you and everyone you hold dear.” She turned away from him at last, her robe rippling in the evening breeze, without so much as a second glance.

     He gazed after her, still rooted to the spot, and once again he hoped that the time Olivia spoke of would never come.

     * * *

     “Slide this piece in…okay, thank Fyora I drilled the holes right…bam! I’m a genius!”

     “Yeah, yeah, is it done?” asked Rohane, rolling his eyes and standing next to Reuben’s ample weapon display. Meanwhile, Cavall was writing something on a scroll of parchment, leaving ink spots on Reuben’s work desk.

     “You can’t rush art. You would know, after all those times I’ve had to mend your swords! Sheesh, you even wrecked the one I forged for your birthday!”

     “It’s not my fault a mountain golem decided to break it in half!”

     Reuben attached a small metal cap onto the end of the handle and shook his head. “No, no, it’s your fault you chose the dangerous life, little bro. I chose the normal life. I’m the normal one in this family.”

     “What did I tell you about using your mouth to work? Also, Mother is the normal one in our family.”

     “Hey, just so you know, I did in fact get it done even while running my mouth. I could’ve gotten it done sooner, but I run a business, and I can’t always leave it to Andrea or the other smiths to keep it running.”

     “Ah, it’s no problem at all.” Cavall bobbed his head from the desk. “Thank you so much, Master Reuben, for making a smallsword for me. If I need to pay for it…”

     “Pay?” The swordsmith looked offended as he held the smallsword up to the light streaming in from the nearest window. “Oh, no, no. I promised Rohane I’d be doing this for free. No payment. Besides, this was a fun project. Here, why don’t you try this out?”

     Cavall shot out of his desk, though he managed to properly return the quill to his inkwell before he did so. He hurried over to Reuben’s workstation, ignoring the bolts and wood shavings and metal remnants on the surface of the table to look at the smallsword. His smallsword. The Blue Cybunny gaped reverently at the thin, supple blade, and reached out to touch the grip chased down with wire and the quillons molded in the shape of ornate letter C’s.

     “Go ahead,” said Reuben, nodding. “Try it out.” Then he quickly moved his table away to give the squire more room.

     Cavall took a deep breath and held the smallsword high. Then he brought it low into swings, slashes, thrusts, one after the other. And though his body struggled to keep up, and at one point he tripped over the floorboard and nearly got tangled in his own feet, he could feel a sense of freedom in wielding a sword that wasn’t too heavy or too wide.

     “Don’t just stand there, join him!” Reuben said, gesturing at Cavall.

     “Okay, okay.”

     At first, Cavall hesitated when he saw his knight-master approach.

     “Guard position, Cavall. I’ll move first.”

     With a flourish, Rohane drew his broadsword, swinging it down and up. Unfazed by how Cavall blocked it, he switched his position and angled toward Cavall’s right. The Cybunny scrambled aside just in time to lock blades with Rohane, breathing hard as he tried to keep his smallsword from being flicked out of his hand. Just when he thought it was safe to circle away, a quick riposte sent his smallsword clattering to the floor.

     “We’ll work on that,” said Rohane, as he patted his squire on the back after Cavall had retrieved his sword and slid it back into its scabbard. “A new smallsword should help you with your combat lessons, but you still need to learn how to control it, finetune your movements, and build up your strength. But all of that will come to you, in time.”

     “What, no thanks to the brilliant swordsmith who made this all possible?”

     “Thanks, Mister Brilliant Swordsmith. No, really, I appreciate you taking time out from your schedule to make a better sword for Cavall.” Rohane gave his brother an appreciative but also mildly exasperated smile.

     “You’re welcome.” Reuben grinned back and enveloped the knight in a one-armed hug. Then he sighed. “So, does this mean you two will be leaving tomorrow? Four days flew by so fast. You could stay for a while longer…”

     “We’d love to, but we can’t. Cavall must continue his classes and training, and it’ll take us a few more days to reach Meridell Castle even if we’ll be traveling by the White River ferry most of the way back.” Rohane glanced at Cavall. “Though, if you really want to stay here for one more day…”

     The image of Olivia flashed in Cavall’s mind, and he tensed. Somehow, he managed to keep his expression neutral as he said, “N-No, you’re right, I – no, we, have to go back.”

     “Well, at least let me escort you two to White River. Just in case we run into more brigands on the way.”

     * * *

     The trip to White River was mercifully uneventful, with Reuben, Rohane, and Cavall reaching the town by evening. With the ferry leaving the following morning, Rohane sent his squire into their inn room to get a good night’s sleep after dinner.

     Unfortunately, sleep was the last thing on Cavall’s mind. He reached under his pillow and gripped the Wincott medallion; ever since Olivia had spoken to him about what she knew about him, he had become more acutely aware of the family heirloom than usual. It was a dead weight in his pocket as they walked, and occasionally Cavall wished that they would in fact encounter a bandit just so he could get rid of the medallion for good. Made of gold and emblazoned with the crest of a prominent – if corrupt – noble family, no doubt it would fetch a high price on the black market.

     Still, it felt wrong. Olivia was right – Cavall couldn’t hide behind his name for long, even if he had done so for four years. Besides, the more reasonable part of his mind added, sooner or later someone would find out that he was Cathton Wincott, the secret heir to the Wincott fortune.

     He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, bundled up tightly in his blankets. The Blue Cybunny shut his eyes and tried sleeping again, but his thoughts were bouncing around in his head and not giving him a moment of peace.

     I nearly told those bandits – and Sir Rohane – who I am. What if I did? Would he start treating me differently? Worse…what if he doesn’t want me as his squire anymore?

     Cavall buried his face into his pillow.

     Besides, he probably took me in because no one else would. I was the last one picked. Maybe Master Auxentius pleaded with him for me. I can’t see Master Aux doing that, but still…Sir Rohane never had a squire before me. Oh no, no, what if I become the reason he never gets a squire again? Because his first squire turned out to be a lying, corrupt jerk!

     What if that’s true? What if he’s talking about that with Master Reuben downstairs?

     He got up and walked out of the inn room, wearing only his nightshirt. Gently he opened and closed his door, and then made his way down the stairs as quietly as possible.

     The stairs were just beside the inn counter, allowing Cavall to stand against the wall between part of the staircase and the counter to observe the inn patrons. A clock on the wall told him it was half past ten o’clock, yet a few scattered Neopians were still in the mess hall, playing cards, drinking grog, or absorbed in varied conversations. His ears pricked at the sound of a familiar name thrown around by a hardened Ixi with heavily tattooed biceps.

     “…looked like Lord Lotham Wincott…”

     The Mutant Krawk with him, who was equally buff and inked, shook her head. “But he died four years ago, in the fire. He and his wife.”

     “How many royal Usuls do you see sneaking around marketplaces?”

     “Most Usuls look similar enough anyway. Maybe you saw a red or a brown Usul by mistake.”

     Cavall’s stomach dropped. The Cybunny did not know how to feel about possibly seeing his parents again. Should he be relieved that they were alive? Or should he be afraid and disappointed because that meant doubling down on his disguise as Cavall, Sir Rohane’s squire, to ensure that his parents would never find him?

     And more importantly – to ensure that he doesn’t lose his squire status?

     “What do you think about that?” Horxas, the blue Tonu innkeeper, asked. There was the sound of something being poured into a tankard, and Cavall peered around the wall to look at the Tonu at work behind the counter, serving two White Blumaroos.

     Reuben snorted. “The Wincotts, alive? I doubt that. Even if they escaped the fire, how would two cushy nobles make it out in a world where everyone’s out to get them?” After nodding his thanks to Horxas, he took a swig of his tankard. “Ahhh, that hits the spot.”

     “You’d be surprised at what corrupt nobles are capable of,” Rohane pointed out, resting his elbow on the counter. “Still, I’ll keep an eye out and report back to Jeran. The Wincotts have managed to evade arrest for years – we know they were involved in smuggling contraband into Meridell and Brightvale, but there was never enough evidence to pin it all on them. Witnesses are hard to find, the paperwork always looks to be in order, and the Wincotts had some of the customs officials in their pocket…”

     “Sounds like a drag,” said Reuben as he put down his tankard. “It’s one thing to take down a megalomaniac giant Draik, but two slippery nobles with enough money to buy half the kingdom?”

     “Who knows, Cavall and I might find some clues on the way back.”

     Meanwhile, Cavall bit his lip as he crouched on the stairs.

     “Cavall, huh.” Reuben drummed his fingers on the counter as Horxas turned away to arrange some bottles on a shelf. “That reminds me. This is the first time you ever took on a squire, Rohane. What made you decide to change your mind?”

     Rohane stared into his own tankard. “Hmm. Honestly, I felt sorry for the kid. He lost his mother – well, his adoptive mother – just before he moved up to becoming a squire, and no other knight wanted him.” He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t think I was the right knight-master for him.”

     Cavall felt a pit form in his stomach. Is that all? He only felt sorry for me? His ears drooped.

     “What made you think that?” Reuben asked.

     “He’s a genius. Highest marks in math, language, history and culture.”

     Only because my parents made me learn what they thought I needed to be a good little heir. The Blue Cybunny reached up to tug at one of his ears.

     “So…you pitied him?”

     Rohane frowned and shook his head when Horxas came around with a freshly opened bottle of grog. “It’s not just that.”

     “A sense of obligation, then?”

     “Partly.”

     Reuben grinned as he motioned for Horxas to pour the grog into his tankard. “That’s just like you, Rohane. You were always about duty, that sort of thing.”

     “And that’s why White River is indebted to you, if I may add,” the blue Tonu said. “Free stays for you and your companions are the least I can offer.”

     “Thanks, Horxas. I really appreciate it.”

     “Anyway, you felt like you had to do something for Cavall, is that right?”

     The pit in Cavall’s stomach grew larger, and he sat down on the edge of one step as silently as he could, keeping his feet and ears away from view.

     “I did. I had hoped to find something new to do after travelling the world and becoming a knight, and for a while I was afraid that I’d bitten off more than I could chew, taking on a squire. What was I thinking?”

     “Don’t ask me, I never know what you’re thinking most of the – hey! Don’t just punch me while we’re having a heart-to-heart!”

     The knight drained his tankard before continuing. “Sometimes I wondered if I did the right thing. Would I regret this?”

     “Well,” Reuben said, the joking tone gone from his voice, “do you?”

     There was a pause wherein the only sounds Cavall could hear were Horxas shuffling about, and the muscled Ixi and Krawk challenging each other to a late-night arm-wrestling match. A part of him wanted to flee into his room, jump back into his bed, crawl under the blankets, and forget he had ever tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. Another part of him wanted to stay and hear the answer, even if he may not like it.

     He stood up and braced himself.

     Rohane sighed, and before Cavall could figure out what kind of sigh it was, he heard the Blumaroo say clearly, “No, I don’t regret taking Cavall as my squire.”

     The Blue Cybunny felt as though the ground had been yanked out from beneath him, and as he staggered to maintain his balance, he slipped on a stair and stumbled. He barely managed to grab hold of the banister to steady himself, but not before he caught the attention of Reuben, Rohane, Horxas, and the Krawk, who had just slammed her companion’s hand into their table with a small whoop.

     “Cavall?” Rohane immediately stood up from his stool and hurried over to his squire. “Are you okay?” He offered an arm for Cavall to take as the Cybunny slowly righted himself, his ears roaring and his heart hammering in his chest. He looked up at Rohane’s face, his mind trying to catch up with what had just happened and what he had just heard.

     “I’m…y-y-yes, sir.”

     “Good.”

     “I think,” said Reuben, “this is our cue for all of us to head to bed. You two have a ferry to catch, and I’ve gotta get back to work tomorrow.” He opened his pouch and tossed some Neopoints onto the counter. “I know you said our rooms were on the house, but you deserve a tip, Horxas. Thanks for the drinks and the company.”

     “Always a pleasure, Master Reuben!”

     Reuben smiled as he approached Rohane and Cavall. “This is why I like this guy. I’ll save my goodbyes for tomorrow when you’re both bound for Meridell Castle, so for now, this is good night.”

     “Good night, Master Reuben,” mumbled Cavall.

     “Good night, big bro.” After Reuben walked up the stairs and disappeared into his room, Rohane accompanied Cavall back to their shared room and asked, “What were you doing downstairs? We thought you were asleep.”

     “Uh…I just couldn’t sleep. Um…Sir Rohane?”

     “What is it?”

     “T-Thanks.” The Cybunny felt as though he were in a daze as he returned to his bed. “For…choosing me as your squire.”

     Rohane blinked at first as he shut the door, but he decided to just give his squire a small smile.

     “You’re welcome. I meant it – I don’t regret choosing you.”

To be continued…