Twelfth Knight

Chapter 3

The next day came quickly. All too soon, Emberly and Kyler said farewell to their loving father and disappeared into the carriage set for a twelve-hour long journey to Central. The journey itself was tiring and rough. Every so often the carriage would hit a rock or depression in the road that would cause Kyra, Kyler, and Emberly to bounce in their seats.

It was a long journey to Central and with every passing hour, Emberly became more and more worried. What if she was found out? What would happen to her father because of her deception?

Truth be told, the worrying was all for naught. When they reached Central, Kyra and Emberly rented a room at a local inn, called Bandello’s, quickly changed into their men’s clothes and walked with quick steps to the castle. Meanwhile, Kyler took the letter for their grandmother to the awaiting butler.

Kyler passed his sister on his way to the empty room in Bandello’s. The twins embraced and bid each other a fond farewell.

As Emberly stepped away from Kyler, she felt a pang in her chest. She would miss her brother. He had been her constant companion and friend for sixteen years. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she and Kyra walked to the castle. She despised change and this was why.

Emberly and Kyra, upon arriving at the castle, were given a room all to themselves. Emberly was incredibly relieved by this prospect. Here, in the confines of her own room, she could be herself. The room was connected to a considerably smaller room that Kyra knew was for herself. Lastly, there was a small, closet-like room that held a bath tub, another commodity that Emberly appreciated.

The maid that had led Emberly and Kyra to the room mentioned that dinner would be soon approaching. Emberly was to be at the Great Hall by the time the clock had chimed three times in repetition. Kyra, in contrast, was to eat with the other servants in the kitchen.

“Typical,” murmured Kyra when the maid had left. “I do all the work, but you get to eat at the nice, fancy tables. All because your father was an earl. Can I just say–”

“That the entirety of the feudal system is deranged and idiotic?” guessed Emberly, a chuckle in her voice. “You’ve mentioned it before. Come on, I need to find the Great Hall before dinner begins.”

Emberly had been to the castle in Central before. Of course, she had never been in the training wing before. This wing was reserved for squires alone as they completed their training to become a knight. It was simple enough to navigate and in no time at all, Emberly was able to locate the Great Hall, just as the bell chimed two times in repetition.

Kyra left Emberly alone to find herself a seat at one of the many long tables.

All around her, boys were chatting among themselves. Emberly was able to distinguish the various years of training in which each boy was entering. Those in the first year of training wore a red training uniform, like the one Emberly sported herself. Those in the second year wore blue, while those in third year wore green. The final years, as everyone knew, apprenticed under a real knight and already had their armor. None of these gentlemen were in the Great Hall, of course, as they would be wherever their knight had been stationed.

Fear crept into Emberly’s heart. When she had chosen this path yesterday, she hadn’t fully understood how long she would have to uphold this ruse. Four years of training coupled with five years of service. Nine years. How was she going to maintain this life for nine years?

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” she heard a voice whisper. Beside her stood a boy, who was wearing a red uniform. They boy had to be sixteen years old, per the requirements of squires, but the boy standing before her looked like he was twelve. He had sandy-blond hair that was typically found in the southern regions of Etrusca. He was taller than her, but not by much and while Emberly still had a lot of muscle to build up, this boy was very possibly the furthest thing from a knight she had ever seen. The boy was not looking at her, but regarded the scene before them. “So much of our lives are going to be here.”

“It seems that many of the other squires already know one another,” Emberly commented in reply. She forced herself to speak in a lower pitch than normal. While she would never be able to replicate her brother’s deep dulcet tones, at least she sounded as though she had lived through puberty.

As she spoke, Emberly’s eyes fell on specific group of boys, comprised of eight or nine of the first-year squires, who were chatting excitedly to themselves.

“I’m not sure if they really know each other,” the boy answered, gesturing to the boy in the middle of the group. “That’s Prince William. I think they all just want to be his best friend.”

Emberly stared at the prince. She had seen him at court, but had never spoken to him. He usually surrounded by females instead of boys, though. The prince was handsome enough. His skin was tanned, a trait that nearly every ruler of Etrusca had. His hair was dark, almost black. And it was clear, by the large arm muscles, that the prince trained hard for his chance to prove himself.

“I didn’t know the prince was in our year,” Emberly said. “I thought he had just turned seventeen.” The celebration had lasted an entire week. The Dern family had been invited, of course, but they didn’t attend. Emberly’s father wasn’t keen on fancy parties, especially when there was work to be done at the manor. Emberly and Kyler, too, held the same opinions.

“He did,” stated the scrawny boy. “He wasn’t able to start training last year. He’d fallen ill last August. My mother said that the royal family didn’t want many to know of it, but apparently, the prince nearly died because of it. Didn’t even fully recover until June.”

“Well, it’s nice to know the kingship is still intact,” murmured Emberly. The boy smirked at her and held out a hand to her.

“I’m Arran Anson. My father’s the Count of Vesper Hall.”

“Em­-Kyler Dern,” Emberly answered, shaking the boy’s hand. “My father’s the Earl of Northem Manor.”

“Nice to meet you, Kyler. Should we find a place to sit?” As if on cue, the bell chimed three times in repetition, indicating it was now time for dinner.

“I believe we should.” Emberly and Arran sat down at the nearest table, close to squires who were wearing green uniforms. The third-years turned their noses up at Emberly and Arran, as if stating they were better than the first-years. Emberly chose to ignore this.

A tall man, strode into the Great Hall, causing silence to ring across the room. He walked with deliberate steps to the long table at the front of the room, reserved for men of his station. He had a sneer on his face and a look that dared anyone to cross his prophetic word. He was not without flaws, of course. This man had seen the horrors of war and returned to teach the new knights. He was missing a foot, replaced by the constant thud of a wooden leg. He had scars lining the every inch of his left arm.

Emberly didn’t need to be told who this man was. Everyone had heard the stories about this man. This was Sir Wylan.

When he reached the table, he turned to them. “From this day on, you will sit with the members of your same year,” Wylan said, his voice was a deep, raspy sound. “Meals are not a social time, they are a time for sustenance. I do not care if your brother is in another year. You will sit with your year and your year alone.”

“Yes, Sir Wylan,” rang a chorus of voices. Not one of these voices belonged to the first-years.

“To those of you who are new, I will say this: when I give a direct order there will be only one response. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir Wylan,” repeated the boys.

“Good. There is a reason we have this program. You will learn what it is to be a knight. It is the highest honor that a man can achieve in his lifetime. Do not dishonor the name of the King’s Knights.”

“Yes, Sir Wylan.” This time, Emberly joined the voices in answering the man.

“To be a knight is not a right. It is a honor. It takes hard-work. Tomorrow, you will work harder than you ever have in your entire life. You will do this for the only reason one becomes a knight: to serve our great king.”

“Yes, Sir Wylan.”

“The men around you will fight beside you. You must trust them explicitly. When one knight fails, they all fails. From today, each of you will be at meals by the third bell. No one eats until all of us have entered the room. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir Wylan.” This thought terrified Emberly for a moment. If she was ever late, even once, every single boy in the entire room would have to wait for her to appear before they could eat. She shuddered at the thought of what a bunch of hungry boys might do.

“There is only two days per week that you will be left to your own devices. I, personally, was against the decision to give you the weekends off, but apparently the king thought you all would need a few days to recuperate after a long week of training. He might have more of an army if he didn’t see fit to give each of you time for yourselves and your families. Regardless, the weekends are yours to do with what you will. These are the only days you will not be required to attend mealtimes and go into the city. You will be expected to work hard each Monday. So no matter how much ale you have the night before. You had better be ready for breakfast the next morning. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir Wylan,” the boys said.

“Should you fall ill at any time in the next nine months, you will be responsible for seeing the court physician yourself. Should you die, I will let your parents know how weak you were to die of a silly illness.” Absentmindedly, Emberly glanced at Prince William, wondering what his thoughts were. Did he think himself strong enough to live through whatever illness ailed him? Or did he disagree with their superior’s words, knowing how close death could be to them? No response could be read on his face and Emberly forced herself to look back at Sir Wylan.

“You will stand when I enter the room,” Wylan decided, “as a sign of respect to your superior. Understand this boys, you are not a man until I say you are. You are nothing until I decide otherwise. There is no one here to coddle you when you chip a nail. There is no one here to baby your feelings. If you can’t last through training, you sure as hell won’t live through the war.”

“Yes, sir Wylan.” In the back of Emberly’s mind, she thought about laughing at the man’s words. The boys around here were waiting for the day that Sir Wylan deemed them to be men. They longed for it. But Emberly was different. She didn’t even need that day, she didn’t need that validation. And somehow, that thought gave her strength.

“Well then, boys, it seems it is time to eat.” Sir Wylan sat down at the long table, watching the boys carefully as maids appeared to bring food to the tables.

Emberly spent the evening conversing with Arran. She forced herself to concentrate on the many things about the southern regions that Arran was explaining to her. But no matter how many times she glanced up to check, Emberly had the distinct impression that someone was watching her.

-----

The first day of training exemplified the fact that Emberly was not prepared for training. She had awoken late, only opening her eyes when the second bell rang for everyone to know that breakfast was only a few minutes away. She, in a hurry, threw on her brother’s training clothes. Kyra, in haste, fixed Emberly’s long hair, and she raced down to the Great Hall.

Of course, by the time she reached the Great Hall the bell had chimed three times. She found every single boy standing at the tables, watching her enter the room. She could see the disdain they held for her clearly on their faces. Her eyes lowered to the floor, as though that could help her hide her shame. She strode over to where the other first-years were standing and took the place beside Arran.

“Squire Dern,” called Sir Wylan from the long table in the front of the room. He, too, was standing. “As you can see you have left your fellow squires waiting for you. Pray tell, what was so important that you could not be on time?”

Emberly didn’t need a mirror to know that her cheeks were bright red now. Her embarrassment was pouring out of her. “I-well, sir, I-I overslept.” She couldn’t meet Sir Wylan’s eyes as she said this. She couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes at words. Her green eyes gazed at the floor, willing it to swallow her up.

“You overslept,” repeated Sir Wylan. He was mocking her and she knew it. Everyone around her could see that. What a way to start the first day, she tormented herself.

“I am sorry, sir,” she tried to amend.

“You do not owe me an apology, Dern. You owe the boys you’ve kept waiting. So, look them in the eye and apology.”

This had to be some sort of persecution. She raised her eyes at the sneering boys around her. Two of the boys sitting beside the prince looked simply disgusted by her presence in the room. Even the prince himself had anger etched into his facial features.

She straightened her shoulders and held her head high, just as her father taught her to do. “I am truly sorry for wasting your time,” she stated with a clear voice. “I will do my best to see that it does not happen again.”

“See that you do. Tonight, Squire Dern, you will report to the kitchen to clean all of the pots and pans following dinner as penance for your selfishness,” commanded Sir Wylan. “Now that we are all here, you may sit and eat your breakfast. Do be aware that you only have twenty minutes before the first training exercise. First-years will remain here for instructions. Second years will report at the stables and third years will report to Sir Tycho for strategy lessons. I expect you all to be prompt. And if any of you are late, you will have Squire Dern to thank for that.”

Emberly sunk into her seat in embarrassed defeat.

The day only seemed to worsen from there.

All of the first-year boys, excepting Arran, were glaring at her during the entirety of the Sir Wylan’s speech on sword training. First-year squires did not work with actual swords. Instead, they would be given fake swords with which to practice. Sir Wylan made it clear that all swords were to be treated with the respect the weapons deserved. Hard punishment would be given swiftly to all who did otherwise.

Sir Wylan led the first-years to the training area. As they walked, he explained that most of their training would take place outside. However, when weather was harsh and unforgiving, the squires would train inside.

The training grounds outside were behind the castle, close by the stables. Emberly glanced with excitement at the stables, knowing that soon, she would be given her very own horse. Her father, when she was younger, decided to sell any extra horses they had, giving up Emberly’s own horse, Midnight. Her father said it was to cut down on expenses, but all Emberly could remember was the pain of watching her horse be taken away from her.

The sight of two of the boys pushing Arran out of their way broke Emberly out of her reverie. She knew these boys immediately. They were the ones who could be seen sitting beside the prince last night and this morning. She had also seen them at court. They were both about the same height and build. This, though, was where the similarities ended. James had dark skin while Keenan was a pale, red-headed boy. James, as Emberly had seen before, could have a kind demeanor when he wanted to. Keenan was always looking for ways to insert himself into the royal family. There was a rumor last year that he had tried to propose to Princess Odelle. Apparently, the princess didn’t even pretend to consider the offer before she answered, “No.”

Arran fell to the ground, his training uniform instantly corroded with dirt. Ignoring the laughter of the larger, idiotic boys, Emberly held a hand out to Arran. “Thanks, Kyler,” Arran murmured, talking her hand. For a moment, Emberly forgot she was Kyler and almost corrected him, like she had done all her life when people called her Kyler’s name.

Thankfully, she saved by Sir Wylan barking, “Dern, Anson, keep up. We’ve already had to wait for you once today. Don’t make it a second.”

Emberly and Arran raced to catch up to the rest of the group. Sir Wylan stopped in front of a large, wooden fence. The fence was shaped like a large square with enough area for many people to move around in. This must have been where they would first learn to sword fight.

A servant crept forward and handed each of the first-years a wooden sword. “You will begin with blocking,” said Sir Wylan in a bored voice. “Knowing how to attack is vital to swordplay, but knowing how to defend yourself is infinitely more important.”He held up a wooden sword. “Orsino, if you please.”

Without needing anymore encouragement, Prince William stepped forward in an attempt to attack Sir Wylan. Even for someone who had supposedly been training all his life for this, Sir Wylan could easily block the attack. “If you cannot defend yourself,” continued the raspy tones of Sir Wylan, “you will never be able to defend the people of Etrusca.”

Emberly was surprised by the lord’s words. All her life she had been told that the main objective of the King’s Knights were to protect the king himself. Yet, Sir Wylan himself just claimed that only by defending one’s self, can they truly protect the entire kingdom, including its many inhabitants. Respect for the man sprouted deep within Emberly. Even if he humiliated her that morning, he clearly understood what the true purpose of a knight should be.

“Alternatively,” Sir Wylan said, “defending alone cannot win wars or even a simple fight. Heczah.” James stepped forward. Sir Wylan demonstrated an attack against James’ sword. James Heczah was able to hold his own against the power of Sir Wylan. James, too, must have been training all his life for this moment. Emberly would be woefully under qualified in comparison.

Sir Wylan explained the two main attacking positions, with which they would be primarily working. The first was a high attack. Sir Wylan positioned the sword so that it would arc down on James’ sword. The other was a low attack, where the sword held an upward swing. Sir Wylan explained that the latter attacks were typically used in order to stab the open area of the body. “Do try to defend yourselves,” Wylan stated, his voice returning to a bored expression, “you will not be receiving armor until your fourth year. Any bloodshed will be your own responsibility.”

Some of the other boys chuckled a little at Sir Wylan’s words, but Emberly had no doubt about the man’s sincerity. They needed to know how to protect themselves. First-year might have just been a bunch of boys playing with wooden swords, but they were training for a war. Any bloodshed then would be their own fault.

“You will be partnered for sparring today,” stated Sir Wylan. “I will be choosing the partners. There will be no actual fighting today. Your partner will attack while you block. Then, you’ll switch. And if I hear any complaining, you’ll all be running laps around the castle. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir Wylan,” answered the boys.

“Orsino and O’Neill,” barked Sir Wylan. Neither William nor Rormir O’Neill needed any more command than this. They strode ever to a corner of the training area. “Anson and Taylar.” Arran gave a plea-filled look towards Emberly as he walked away with Keenan. She would have to keep an eye on him during training, just in case. “Lepore and Thernstorm.” And so on down the list until he said, “Dern and Heczah.”

A complaint was on the tip of Emberly’s tongue. She bit it back, knowing she’d never survive training if she complained. One late breakfast could be forgiven, but a late breakfast and laps around the castle? It’d be the end of her.

“Yes, Sir Wylan,” James and Emberly said together.

Emberly followed James to the furthest corner of the training grounds. The other groups had already begun blocking and attacking. Arran’s face had gone pale in the two minutes he’d had to defend against Keenan’s attacks. More dirt had latched itself to Arran’s uniform. How much had Keenan thrown the poor scrawny boy in the dirt?

Emberly turned to James’ sneering face. She’d spoken to him only a few times in her life, nothing of importance that would make an impression in his mind. Really, he’d spoken more to Kyler than herself.

Last Winter Festival, for instance, Kyler and James had been nearly inseparable. She wasn’t sure why he’d be glaring at her now if he’d thought she was Kyler. Maybe it was just what happened at breakfast this morning. Emberly chose to tread lightly.

“James,” she greeted, remembering to lower her voice an octave, “it’s been a while–”

“Stop, Dern,” spat James in disgust, “don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten what you said the last time we met.” For an instant, he looked hurt and sad. But the instant passed and the boy quickly masked his pain. “You and I are not friends.”

“Right,” murmured Emberly, “and what was it exactly that I said?”

She shouldn’t have pried. Without warning, and with probably all the anger and rage the boy possessed, Meczah swung his sword down in an arc at Emberly. Taken by surprise, Emberly tried to block the attack, but was too late. James struck her head, creating a nice gash on the side of her face.

“What did I say, Dern?” shouted Sir Wylan.

“I’ll do better,” returned Emberly, “it’s my fault alone, sir.”

“Indeed.”

Emberly’s turned back to James, holding a hand to the gash, gleaning how much blood would be flowing out of it. It wasn’t too bad. She would live. “You know what happened,” James whispered, his anger echoed in his words.

“You’re right,” Emberly hastened to say, lest he surprise attack her once again. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

James didn’t seemed completely satisfied by her answer, but he accepted it. He raised his wooden sword in a defensive position. Emberly raised her own and tried a high attack, which James defended with ease. Then, James shot forward with a low attack. Emberly, watching his movements with meticulous attention, blocked the strike.

As they worked, Emberly played James’ words and reaction over in her mind. What had her brother done to anger James Heczah so much? She had thought them to be good friends. What had changed? After training today, she determined, she would send a letter to Kyler. He owed her an explanation.

James said nothing to her as they struck and blocked back and forth. And Emberly was smart enough to keep silent. She did want to see how well her only friend here was faring, but kept her eyes on James. She was worried to know what would happen if she turned her back on Heczah. So, instead of watching out for her friend like she had wanted, she kept her eyes firmly on James’ movements. Blocking and striking. Over and over. Until Sir Wylan told them to stop.

-----

The afternoon was long.

Following the midday meal, the first-years were brought to what could only be defined as a “classroom.” Each first-year was given their own small table. Emberly sat beside Arran, who very clearly needed to learn to block attacks better. The poor, scrawny boy had bruises dotting just about every inch of his face.

At the front of the room stood a woman. She was dressed elegantly, like many of the women at court were inclined to do. The blue dress she wore reflected the blue in her eyes. The woman was clearly beautiful, by any definition of the world. Her long, brown hair flowed down from her head, grazing the small of her back. She filled the room with her presence. Emberly was eager to know what this woman was doing in the room.

Once each of the first-years had taken their seats, the woman spoke. “I am Lady Elizabeth,” she said. Her voice was clear and commanding. Emberly yearned to hear what more this woman had to say. “I will be your instructor for this writing and reading course.”

Behind her, Emberly heard someone scoff. Lady Elizabeth ignored this action. “While some of you may wonder what merit a woman can have, I can tell you that I am more than qualified to teach you. Understanding how to read and interpret letters can save lives on the battlefield.” A cruel laugh was heard from the back of the room.

“What would you know of a battlefield!” Emberly glanced behind her to see who had spoken. The speaker was a freckled boy in the back of the room.

“Squire Aster, in my classroom, I ask that you refrain from stating the blatantly obvious. If you do this, no one here will mention that your name comes from a type of flower.”

Aster’s cheeks grew red while the boys in the room burst into laughter. Aster would certainly be hearing about that later.

“As to your question,” continued Lady Elizabeth, “I will give you my credentials. Perhaps, then, your minds will be at ease.

“My husband is Sir John Mardy of Emellesmere Abbey. For many years, he has been fighting in the war against Cyra. Four years ago, he was taken captive by the Cyrans. They tortured him to the point where he begged for death.

“But he did not despair. Each night, he would creep out of his imprisoned chamber while the guards slept. He would read the many reports by the Cyrans, learning their plans. He waited for months to hear of profitable news. Then, one night, he fled the prison, racing towards the border between the two regions.

“He knew that any letter he sent would arrive before he ever could. So, he sent me coded letters, lest a Cyran intercept it in during his journey. I alone was able to discern what my husband meant in his letters. I took them before the king.

“Because of those letters, we were able to meet the Cyrans’ invasion and stop it. Knowing how to fight is vital to winning a war, but it is not the only piece of the puzzle. You are wrong if you think otherwise.

“Since that time, I have decoded hundreds of letters for Etrusca. And that, gentlemen, is why I am able to teach you. I, above all else, know of what I speak.”

Emberly was in awe of the woman. She had always believed that women were strong and could do amazing things. She had never, in her life, seen this displayed so well. The lady had Emberly’s complete and undivided attention. A trait that was not seen in the rest of the first-year boys.

“If you do not trust my word, boys,” Lady Elizabeth added, “this will be a long year for you. If you do trust my word, you will be able to save many lives.”

Unfortunately, this heroic and inspiring speech was followed by a long and boring description on the Cyran language. Apparently, many of the boys surrounding her had not been forced to learn the useless language like Emberly. While the boys began learning the basics, Emberly’s boredom transferred to tiredness and from there, she found it almost impossible to keep her eyes open.

Finally, the class ended and Emberly raced back to her room to collapse on her bed.

However, when Emberly reached the corridor of her bedroom, she found that she couldn’t remember which one was her room. Was it fourteen or fifteen? She tried to remember from the day before. What was it? This was the problem will the rooms looking so similar.

“What’re you doing?” a voice asked behind her. Kyra.

“Trying to remember which room is ours.”

“Fifteen,” Kyra stated. “Don’t go into fourteen.” Kyra reached for their door handle, but before she turned the knob, she looked back to Emberly. “Actually, would you please go into room fourteen?”

Suspicion sprouted in Emberly. “Why?” she asked.

“’Cause it’s the prince’ room. I’d very much like to know what our future king would do if he found you in there. Could be funny.” They entered room fifteen.

“Yes and if he banished me,” Emberly added, “you’d have to come with me.”

“Better not, then,” Kyra decided.

-----

Emberly was not alone as she cleaned the pots and pans that evening after dinner in penance for her tardiness at breakfast. Arran was with her. He, like her, had been late to a meal, only it was dinner in his case.

Truthfully, Emberly understood why they had all despised her for being late to breakfast. Every single squire had to stand in anticipation for the last person to arrive so that they could eat their food. It was an irritating practice.

When Arran finally arrived, he claimed that he had been unable to leave his room, as it was locked from the outside. For his ludicrous explanation, Sir Wylan had given him two nights of cleaning instead of one.

“You should have just apologized,” Emberly told him as they washed the dishes, after Arran, once again, claimed that he had been locked in his room until his servant appeared, opening the door for him. “If you apologized, then you’d only have to clean for tonight. We’ve been at this for ten minutes and I’m already bored. I can’t imagine doing this for more than one night.”

“I need him to know that it’s not my fault that I was late. Guess it doesn’t really make much of a difference.” Arran breathed a deep sigh. “How’s your head?” Absentmindedly, Emberly touched the side of her head where James had smashed a sword against it earlier. Where the dried blood had been earlier was now replaced by a scab.

“It’s alright.”

“He should have waited until you were ready,” Arran murmured.

“I think it was really my fault. I said something that made him angry. Don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“Well, we’re in the same boat there. Not sure anyone here likes me all that much. Well, except for you.”

“Right back at you, Arran,” Emberly admitted.

As the time passed, and the mountainous pile of dishes diminished, Emberly felt the need to repay Arran for the trouble she had caused him earlier. Here he was, covered head to toe in bruises, and he was worried about a small gash on the side of her head. Guilt seized her. She had been too preoccupied about herself instead of looking out for her only friend there.

“You can go, Arran,” Emberly told him. “I’ll finish up here.” Arran protested for a solid three minutes before he finally accepted her proposal and left.

The kitchen was quiet as she worked. Emberly thought about humming a song to herself, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her tone deep enough. And the walls themselves could have ears. So, instead, so focused on the dishes until every single one had been cleaned to perfection.

Just as she put the last dish in the now clean pile of dishes, James Heczah and Keenan Taylar entered the kitchen. They sauntered over to where she was standing, glancing around the room disinterestedly. “Hello, Dern,” greeted Keenan. “Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting the kid right now?”

“Yes, where is Anson?” interjected James.

“We’ve finished. I told him that I would finish up for him,” Emberly stated honestly. She was nervous about them being here. What were they doing here? It couldn’t be anything good that much was clear.

“So, these are clean, then,” James questioned, looming over the dishes. In an instant, Emberly knew that they were going to do. She sprang at James, wanting to stop him before he could ruin her progress. But before she could, Keenan grabbed her and pinned her to the ground in one fluid motion. She laid there, struggling, until Keenan finally let her go.

And when she looked around, all of the dishes had been thrown to the floor.

She would have to start over.