Dal watched for a few moments as the Captain departed, his eyes neutral and passive. He flexed his fingers from open palm to fist, back to open palm to see if the healing had taken hold. No pain lashed out in return.
Replacing his hand to his side, he gave no hint of his opinion. In truth, he was as stone in his emotion. To receive such feedback from such a high ranking official, one might recoil in confidence.
Not Dal.
He had wagered his professional career on this lot. To serve with the best. He had voiced his opinion that he wished to become more than he was in ability with magic. Doors would open when the time was right to learn such a thing. The Captain's words would not permeate until later, along with emotion on Dal's part. Dal would later that night turn to sleep and consideration of the day's deeds. He would stare into the dark and frown in remembrance of this exchange, thinking of the times that the grey haired had instructed him. Thinking that had been rare and infrequent amongst
humans or orc. And the typical sensation of feeling misunderstood would come about, and he would chuckle to dismiss it as he always did. Superiors often misunderstood his disposition.
No bootlick am I. I serve. I do my job. And I'll be sent into the field sooner or later. It's up to me to be ready. It's up to me not to die out there. Or let my comrades down. So, I best learn. Despite the faith that I'll be committed to the field when I'm ready for it. I decide my state of readiness and competancy. Always have. I apply myself to a task of improvement and I improve.
For now, in this moment by the river, he had no such rebuke for her words presently, no retort that conspired to present itself at a later point. Not even to himself. Superior officers were exactly that. Superior.
But, Dal thought in this moment, that each one faced the challenge of command in their own way.
She barely knows me.
With mute expression he gathered his gear and looked to the river.
Will soon enough by my deeds in my appointed task. Plough the fields.
He gave a small harrumph.
I'll do as instructed. But if I am not to be squandered, I'll be placed with steel in hand to kill.
Dal picked up the chainmail and shook it in his hand to hear the sound. It was a satisfying sound to the warrior.
Learned something about her though.
He slung the chainmail upon his shoulder and rubbed his jaw.
Not sure what though.
Shaking his head he dismissed the thought.
There was training to do. Acclimatisation. Preparation. The healing was complete. A new chapter had begun proper, and Dal, once mercenary by trade, had become squire, a title that he found to be unusual to be hearing. Even as the Captain chastised him, she had given him the respect of his new found title and position.
There's dignity in that.
He pursed his lips and thought better of the cloying sentiment. Thought of the nobles he'd worked for and against.
They had dignity in jewels and titles. Doesn't stop them dying on the field.
The squire rolled his shoulders and thought to come back to the river tomorrow for more physical conditioning.
Almost fucking died trying to help knights from an ambush on my own. If I am to survive and thrive, I must make better myself, and better to be serving with comrades who might serve with me. Knights who use magic.
He had a curious thought and laughed to himself darkly at it.
The thought was thus.
I wonder if Heike could best this Helena in a fight?
He had a quiet smile on his face as he considered the prospect of the two gold adorned warriors fighting on some field for honour and glory. He had no idea as to Helena's arcane power, aside from the ability to heal. That alone could tip the balance, he thought.
But still, Heike might put her on the backfoot.
Or on her ass.
As disciplined as Dal was, he stayed with the hypothetical match up for a time, for it amused him and did much to distract him from the words that Helena had delivered. He had formed his own conclusions and decisions. And he would live and die by his new comrades, for the old ones were divided. He would serve.
But he didn't have to enjoy his superior's company. But he knew he must abide their decisions.
He began to walk back to the monastery proper, to his duties, to his learning, to his new found comrades, and to the challenges that awaited him. He tidied his mind of the hypothetical show down and kept it to himself. It wouldn't do to be entertaining such thoughts. Still, he found some solace in it for now as he returned to his duties, both to himself and his new found order.
***
The mercenary Dal had been found wanting in his fight against the knight slayers, rescued from his mortal wounds and sworn into service to those who had saved him, now Squire, now in service to
the Knights of Anathaeum. He would find in time new friendships, new challenges, and new aspects of the meaning of what it is to be knightly, understanding of the arcane, and appreciation of his new comrades's dispositions and attitudes. But there would be hardship, self inflicted and endured, all to better himself to belong to such an order as something more than his recent position.
But time would tell if he would live up the ideals of knighthood that this order represented, both in the eyes of his superiors that would judge him, and his own estimation. Dal had survived because of the Knights of Anathaeum intervention. Would he in turn become more than just a mercenary in attitude, and more than the lowest rank of this organisation in capacity?
Time would tell.
