Twelfth Knight

Chapter 8

Emberly quickly fell into a routine. She would wake early, arrive to breakfast early, complete the morning training sessions, sit with boredom during the afternoon lessons, and then arrive early to dinner. After dinner, she would sit in the ables with Feste. It became such a ritual, that she no longer believed she could sleep without bidding “good-night” to Feste.

The days were a torture to her. She was ranked lowest in the class when it came to combat exercises. She did not possess the natural upper body strength that her peers seemed to have. She uncoordinated when it came to sword-fighting and while she had managed to keep Feste focused during training exercises, she was utterly horrendous when it came to working with a lance.

She lost every single sword fight during the training exercises. Sir Wylan had taken to pointing her flaw out to everyone. It was humiliating. And, in her humiliation, she refused to try harder than necessary. She couldn’t face the others after Sir Wylan had done so the first time, she cowered in the stables with Feste.

Emberly’s humiliation melted into apathy. Each day, she forced herself to go to training and endure the insults thrown at her. If she forced herself to be indifferent to the work, it was easier. She could handle the insults and the thousand times she fell to the ground during practice. It was easier, it was better this way. She did the bare minimum because it was expected of her.

Arran was the saving grace of training. He became her best friend. Arran was a strange boy, but he was also intelligent and funny. He worked hard but was absolutely horrendous at the training exercises. He was courageous and looked for opportunities to better himself.

Arran grew up believing he would never obtain the family estate. He, like Emberly, had a brother who was intended for service as a knight in the war. Arran’s brother, Adam, strutted around the household, knowing that it would all belong to him one day. He had been born eight years before Arran himself and died the year after he finished training. Suddenly, the weight of the Anson legacy fell on Arran. He rose to the position, taking the responsibility which belonged to his brother. It was his hard-working mentality that Emberly admired most in Arran. He worked harder than anyone, wanting to prove himself.

Arran quote possibly worked harder than even the prince himself. Unfortunately though, Arran had a distinct habit of being late to everything. Emberly didn’t think a single night had passed in which Arran did not have to wash the dishes following dinner. Some nights, she would join him.

One night, about three weeks into training, Arran inquired over Emberly’s family.

“You have a sister, don’t you?” Arran questioned, soaking the massive pan in the dish water. Emberly focused on drying and putting away the dishes. After so many nights doing this, they’d fallen into an easy routine that effectively cleaned the dishes.

“Yes,” Embelry returned, remembering to answer as though she were Kyler. “She’s my twin.”

“I think I’ve seen her in Central,” Arran murmured thoughtfully.

“Possibly,” Emberly replied, her voice calm. Arran would address the issue head-on if he suspected anything. “She is staying with our grandmother in town.”

“That explains it then,” Arran stated. “You look very similar.” Emberly chuckled.

“So we’ve been told. For a while we thought our father adopted us since we don’t look anything like him.” Emberly hadn’t totally lied. She just didn’t admit that Kyler had made her think that she was adopted, not both of them. She’d believed this lie for two whole years before common sense fell on her.

“Do you look like your mother?” Arran inquired, curiosity danced in his voice, genuinely interested in the answer.

“I don’t know,” Emberly answered, her voice quiet and her eyes trained on the pot in her hands. “My mother died shortly after we were born. I never knew her. I imagine we look like her, though. I can see it in my father’s eyes.”

Emberly didn’t mention how her father pined after his long dead wife. How he would suddenly have a dreamy look in his eyes, as though he was remembering easier and better days. Sometimes, a thoughtful gleam would spark in his eyes when he looked at Emberly. Once tears sprouted in his eyes when she appeared in an elegant purple dress she had found in the attic. Emberly knew he was thinking of the day Emberly’s mother had once worn that same dress.

He never blatantly said that Kyler and Emberly looked like his wife. It it was in his eyes every time he looked at them.

“Do you ever wish you’d known her?” Arran asked, breaking Emberly out of her train of thought.

“Sometimes,” Emberly admitted. “We’re not completely hopeless, though. Father hired a governess when we were five. She’s been with us since then.”

“A governess is not the same as a mother,” Arran pointed out.

“Don’t really know the difference,” mumbled Emberly. Arran did not say anything, but Emberly had the distinct impression that her friend had heard her.

-----

The following day, Emberly was paired with Prince William during training. They were still practicing with the basic attacking and blocking techniques with their wooden swords. This presented an interesting opportunity.

Emberly, while a subpar swordswoman, knew enough of swordplay to know those who had been paired with Prince William so far had been doing the poor bloke a disservice, especially James Heczah. He was prince, after all. No one wanted to seriously injure or cross the future king. They had been going easy on him.

Emberly, unlike the boys of her year, did not hold such qualms. He needed to be as prepared as they did.

“You have two hours. Simple attacking and blocking,” Sir Wylan ordered. “Anyone who attacks out of reason will be spending their weekend scrubbing the tables in the Great Hall. Begin.”

Prince William, as expected, attacked Emberly. She scrambled to block the attack. She wasn’t completely able to block the strength of the attack and William’s sword grazed her forehead.

Then came Emberly’s turn. She put all of her strength into the attack. It was clear William was not expecting the force of the attack and he stumbled backwards, surprise comically flickering across his face.

Prince William, apparently in some strange need to prove that he could defend himself, pushed the attack back to Emberly. His second strike was harder than the first, forcing Emberly to lose her footing. The sword almost hit her in the head, but Emberly was able to keep the attack away from her.

It became a dance between the two of them. He would attack with all the force he could muster and Emberly would be forced to hold up the sword in defense. Then, she would throw all of her strength into an attack on the prince. He would have to block, but it was not as easy as holding up the sword for him. He had to push himself to defend her attack.

She was never able to fully block the power of his attacks. She didn’t possess the upper body strength that the prince did. But she was mightily proud of herself for being able to stand her own against the prince. And more than that, she was even able to surprise the prince in her attack.

At the end of the two hours, both the prince and Emberly were breathing hard, sweating beading across their heads. The prince wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand. “Not bad, Dern,” he muttered, reluctance clear in his voice.

“You’re not terrible either,” she answered. His jaw set.

“Don’t misunderstand. You’re still the worst squire here.”

“And you’re still the worst prince here.” The words stumbled out of her lips before she could stop herself. The moment the words left her, she knew she should not have said it. The prince gave her an annoyed glance before leaving for lunch.

-----

That evening Emberly sat in the stables, idly brushing Feste. Her mind kept replaying over the short conversation she’d had with the prince. She shouldn’t have said anything about the prince. He was good prince, really. She didn’t know why she felt in the need to insult him. Apparently, she just didn’t know how to talk to him. She had an incredible opportunity to form a respectful relationship between herself and the prince. She had obliterated that opportunity in one sentence.

Perhaps, she should apologize.

She dismissed idea the moment it came. She would be better to ignore the issue for now. It would eventually go away.

Hearing the shuffling of feet, Emberly glanced up to see Stefan Weyst enter the stables. He was holding a broom in his hands, tiredness was etched into his face. Over the days that Emberly spent in the stables, she had yet to see Stefan. Or Easton take a break. They seemed to live in the stables. And while they had warned the squires about caring for their own horses, Emberly noticed they still had ninety percent of the work in order to care for the horses properly.

“Hello, Stefan,” Emberly greeted. Feste shifted on his feet, trying to keep himself from falling over, as he was prone to do.

“Hmm? Oh, hello, Kyler,” was the reply. “I didn’t see you there.”

“You look knackered. Do you ever sleep?”

“No time for it,” he chuckled. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“That might come sooner rather than later if you don’t sleep.” Stefan chuckled a little more.

Kyra ran into the stables then, holding a bag of clinking coins as she entered. A victorious expression was plastered to her face. She smirked when she saw Stefan carefully sweeping the floor. “Oh, Stefan, you’re here. That’s new,” sarcasm dripped from her words.

“Some of us actually have to work, Kyne,” replied Stepan, a kind and fond tone in his voice.

“I do work!” Kyra protested, her voice jumping an octave. Emberly rolled her eyes. She had assumed that it would be her own stupidity that would be cause of their secret getting out. But apparently, Kyra wasn’t even trying to sound like a man. “I clean Em–Kyler’s room everyday. And then, I work hard at game nights to steal as much money from you lot as possible.”

“What game nights?” Emberly inquired.

“Oh, well, since the kitchen crew doesn’t need to clean up after dinner anymore, you can thank Arran for that by the way, we’ve been having a few gambling nights here and there.”

“He’s won every single one since we’ve started,” Stefan stated. “Don’t know how you do it. It’s a game of chance.”

“It’s called being clever, Stefan. You’ll get there one day, I’m sure.”

“So really,” summarized Emberly, “you’ve been giving small effort to the cleanliness of my room in order to spend your days taking the hard-earned money of the kitchen fellow?”

“That seems about right.”

“We’ve been talking about leaving him out of the games,” Stefan admitted. “Give someone else a chance for once.” Kyra mumbled something under her breath, which Emberly could not discern. She had a feeling she knew what it was though. Kyra hated being left out of opportunities to make money. She’d been known fairly well in the small village by Northem as the one person who would win every single gambling game there was. She was banned from playing at any tavern.

“Did you make much money tonight?” Emberly asked, turning her attention back to Feste. The horse had started hitting her with his head. He desired all of the attention she was paying to those around her.

“Enough for a lovely night out this weekend in Central,” Kyra replied. She glanced up at Stefan before added nonchalantly, “You’re welcome to join us Stefan. You can finally get out of the stables and enjoy life for a time.”

Emberly raised an eyebrow at Kyra. She could see plainly what her servant was doing. She was definitely going to have to address it before anything happened.

“Thank you for a offer, Kyne. But I do have duties I need to finish first. If I do finish them in time, I may join you.”

Kyra said nothing. She walked over to where Emberly was standing, running her hands over the horse’s hair. For a brief moment it seemed like Kyra wanted to say something. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Sir Leon entered the stables.

“My horse, boy,” he called to Stefan. His voice was gentle, unlike the harsh commands that one usually hears coming from a knight of his status. Like at the war meeting, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was exhausted to his core.

While he waited for Stefan to bring him his horse, Sir Leon glanced around the stables, his eyes connecting with Emberly’s. “Squire Dern,” Sir Leon greeted.

“Sir Leon,” Emberly answered, giving a slight head bow, declaring that she knew he had a higher status than she did, a custom hammered into all noblemen and women from a young age.

She had thought this would be the extent of their conversation, but Sir Leon strode over to where Emberly was standing. He gently brushed Feste’s hair. “I noticed your sparring with young prince today. I was impressed.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not misunderstand,” continued Sir Leon, looking away from her eyes. “You are still far below the rest of your year. However, I was impressed that you were able to defend yourself against Prince William. I do believe you boys have been going too easy on him.”

“Sir?”

“I am sure you have noticed, Squire Dern. You, unlike the others, fought hard against him. He was given an unrealistic understanding of how war works. You destroyed that belief. You did him perhaps the greatest favor anyone can in this situation.”

Emberly was unsure as to how to answer that. She had just done what she thought was best. Apparently, Sir Leon had agreed with her motives.

“Dern,” he said, looking in her eyes for the first time, “you have potential, but you are wasting it.”

“Sir?”

“Arran Anson will never be a great knight. Though, I think currently he has more honor than of you. You know why? Because instead of spending his time hiding away with his horse, he actively seeks out Sir Wylan to help him improve what he’s missing. Of course, Wylan gives him a curt remark, but at least he wants to know how to be better. You have potential, Dern, and yes, caring for your horse is your responsibility. Yet, it should not be the only thing you take away from knight training. In fact, the way that you are now, you will die the moment you walk onto the battlefield.”

Emberly looked away from the knight’s gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment and frustration. He was right, of course. She was hiding away from her problems. She wanted to refute his claims, she wanted to tell him that he didn’t understand the situation. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything. First, because it was impolite and second because everything he had said was completely accurate.

“Just think of what I have said,” Sir Leon added gently. Stefan appeared with Sir Leon’s horse. “Good night, Squire Dern.”

“Sir Leon,” she returned, bowing her head once more. And when she looked up again, the knight had disappeared.

Emberly sat with Feste for a long while thereafter. She did not speak to Kyra or Stefan. Instead, she contemplated all that Sir Leon had said.

-----

The change was not a fast progression. In fact, Emberly spent of her time thinking angry insults to lobby against Sir Leon. His truth made her angry and defensive. No person lives to admit their faults. Especially when pride is at stake.

Then, two days later, she work earlier than usual. She rose from her bed, threw her training uniform on and raced out to the training field. Though she wanted nothing more than to return to bed, she forced herself to run laps around the training field. She forced herself to keep running untils he heard the bell chime for breakfast.

As she stood waiting for Arran to arrive for breakfast, a glimmer of pride and hope sparked inside of her.

Her days became busy. She spent any of her free hours training. Her swordwork improved greatly by the sudden strength now appearing in her arms. She began taking Feste out during dinner to practice with lance work. This forced the horse to work hard as well. Some nights, she would have to lure him out with the promise of extra food.

She continued to help Arran with his constant dish duty. They made a game of it. They’d each take half of the dishes to work on. The first person to finish would win. Then, they would go out into the training fields to practice and train. They forced each other to work hard. Inch by inch they began to improve.

Saturdays were the only days they did not train. Usually, Emberly would spend her Saturdays with her grandmother while Kyra went to the tavern to spend whatever money she had earned during the week. Stefan never did go out with them to the taverns, even though he always promised he would try.

Within a month, the excessive training they did start to pay off. Emberly never fell down anymore during their sword exercises. And while they jousted, Arran was able to stay on the horse without completely panicking.

A month later, they began to actually spar instead of practicing blocking and attacking back and forth. Emberly, at first, was partnered with Rormir O’Neill. Rormir had been showing improvement over the last month, but he did not have the dedication that Emberly now possessed. Emberly, because of her training, was able to quickly defeat Rormir.

She was partnered with four other boys of her year. She did not win every match. In fact, she lost two of them, but at the end of the day, she was proud of herself. She had risen from dead last in the class to the middle range.

Emberly worked harder than anyone in their year. And this was becoming more and more obvious, not just to the squires, but to Sir Wylan and the king himself as well.