Fable - Ask Through A Glass, Clearly

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Spoiler: Music IC

In the lands of Clan MacArthur, their country called Edenham, one establishment was known for its merriment more than most. It was strategically positioned at the bottom of the hill where Fort Wallace was nestled. The name of this tavern was The Golden Apple Pub and it did live up to its reputation. Food and drink for the weary traveler, apple cider, smokey whiskey.

Unfortunately, when one was already within the city, further up its incline, one could not experience that sweet golden finish of which was The Golden Apple Pub. Fortunately, there were other taverns, for Highlanders were nothing if they did not have plenty of opportunity to drink, whether or not the intention was to get drunk.

Thus, somewhere in between the fortress atop the hill and its base, amid stone structures of shops and houses and towers in the greater town, there was one such pub named The Green Old Dog. It wasn’t as popular as the former but it was no less of a tavern, offered its own variety of food and drink, meat and mead, wine and ale and, if you caught the kitchen at the wrong hour, well, potentially bread served stale.

However, the charm of this pub in a number was its simpler character when it came to architecture. It did not exist as a building all on its own like its predecessor but was built within the terraced structures. A brown door was on the outside, a black sign above it with the name, and a symbol that swung in the wind which depicted the head of a green dog. Though no one knew the true story behind it or the owner. Such was the fun of rumors, especially when drunk.

Inside The Green Old Dog you might find some drunken patrons all right, day or night. A number Highlanders this high up, though not limited to their kind by any means. There were other types of residents, even visitors, who were familiar with this tavern or simply looking for one and it was closest or on the way. Whatever the case, it was a good place.

One man thought so, at least. He sat in no corner but at a center table, round and brown, wooden as the owner, but not his server. Lizzie was her name, a comely young lass, enjoyed this man’s company, and wasn’t much her senior.

“Another?” She asked, gesturing toward the empty glass before the man.

“Sure,” the man grinned. “A second after the first. If the kitchen doesn’t come quick with my lunch then I might just have a third.”

“Quickly,” corrected Lizzie. “Come quickly, not quick.” She giggled and walked off.

Green eyes followed her. Emeralds, his mother called those eyes. Evergreen, his father said. Their son, who was modest enough, he liked to think, didn’t have much of an opinion. Yet he did know that they claimed the fair eyes of women. As did his head of red hair.

At the moment, however, Tuncan MacKraser had not come to this tavern as a single man to mingle. Rather, despite being a knight, he had a simpler outfit besides his armor, but he was armed with his sword as fit his sworn service, as he waited for another, younger man who had, in a manner, entered into his own service.

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

As the young boy embarked on another venture with Tuncan, he originally felt a burst of excitement and anticipation swirling within. Each outing with the knight felt like a journey into the unknown, a chance to explore the vast world that awaited him. Every step he took with the man brought him a step closer to understanding the many complexeties of life and its many untold stories. To his untrained eye, all of the taverns seemed to blend into one another, as he was unable to detect many distinct features that set them apart. They all appeared to have plenty of movement, and an odd sense of camaraderie, too.

The strange scent of ale and hearty meals wafted through the air, mixed with the sound of laughter. Despite the soft exchanges in the background, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being under some type of scrutiny. As he made his way back and seated himself across from the man, Aldric felt a pang of unease, as though every patron's gaze was fixed upon him. His eyes, cast downward, traced along the patterns of the table's surface, a modest attempt to shield himself from those around him; his hands began to fidget with the edges of his green cloak.

Inhaling a deep breath, he fought to bring a sense of calm to his nerves. As he lifted his gaze, he took in the surroundings of the establishment around him with a sense of clarity. He wasn't there to keep tabs on the number of drinks the knight consumed; rather, he thought his presence was a promise of support, prepared to step in at a moment's notice should Ser Tuncan require any form of aid. Despite the physical burden of the slim longsword tugging at his leather belt, it did give him an assuring confidence that transcended far beyond his physical limitations. Courage coursed through his veins whenever his hand brushed against the hilt. It felt like a silent companion ready to defend him in times of need.

As Aldric's eyes drifted towards the mysterious woman engaged in conversation with the knight, he quickly noticed her features and stance. A wave of warmth rushed to his cheeks as he studied her. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his reaction, though it was becoming increasingly difficult to tear his gaze away. A question whispered in his mind. Was she possibly a handmaiden or lady in waiting? The boy doubted it. Her manner of speech and the way she carried herself wasn’t the traditional norm expected from someone typically in service of those of higher social status.

When she walked away, his focus trailed behind her for a brief moment before quickly redirecting elsewhere. A shy smile formed on his lips as his eyes sought out his mentor, as if seeking guidance with the whirlwind of emotions he was currently experiencing. The squire straightened his posture, his shoulders then easing back so he would appear more composed. With grace, he rested his hands on the table. "Ser, I think she likes you," he murmured, his words laced with a hint of intrigue. It felt like he was trying to unravel some kind of mystery. "Or could it be," he continued, his voice sounding more thoughtful, "It is you who has some type of feelings for her? Her face always brightens up in your presence.”

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Even without the words that came his way, the knight would be taken in by the red tint of which the squire’s face was shaped with. A young lad, aged fourteen, Aldric was around half the age of his master, though the emphasis of seniority generally ended there.

The boy had newly entered into the service of his liege and, while Ser Tuncan MacKraser was certainly one to respect and ensure authority, adhere to the command structure, he had sooner rather than later corrected his squire on referring to him as ‘master’ when they first met. ‘Ser’ was another story for the former as was ‘boy’ for the latter.

Whatever the boy had to drink if anything, it was the squire’s job to cater to the knight’s needs, but paying for drinks wasn’t one of them. There were other options for the younger ones in taverns of course, from milk to tea or just ordinary water.

However, Tuncan sat there with one arm draped over the table, the other with a tankard of ale in hand as he grinned at his companion. A lad after mine own heart. Trust the first words for the young man to utter in a tavern being toward the lass.

“Does it?” He mused at the question. “Oh, she surely fancies me with those rosy lips of hers giving it away. Yet I do not return the gesture for her. However, my face always brightens when I strike a good conversation or when in the presence of a woman, whether romantic or platonic…but your face brightened in a whole other way.”

Tuncan leaned in closer, speaking barely above a whisper. “Tell me, laddie, is it you who has feelings for her? Truth, now. I’ll have it. Say the word and I’ll fetch the young lady back over, you can spill the beans, confess your undying love for her, maybe even get married.” He most definitely teased, sipping his drink no matter his squire’s answer.

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

Despite the array of food spread out around him, the boy found himself strangely disinterested in eating. His stomach growled lightly, but he ignored it. The usual hunger was replaced by a sense of curiosity that consumed his thoughts, leaving him unable to focus on the idea of enjoying a meal right now.

The possibility of tasting the local ale flitted through his mind, but a sense of caution held him back, his gaze lingering on the flushed faces and unsteady movements of those who had consumed a little too freely. For now, he was content to be a silent spectator, to watch and wait, his curiosity piqued. The weight of his duty pressed upon him, a reminder of the knight whose safety was his responsibility. To indulge in the drink’s intoxicating embrace would be to jeopardize his vision, to cloud his judgment.

With a sense of pride in his duty, he straightened his posture once more, his chest puffing out as if to assert some kind of authority; the squire felt as though it could rival his mentor in that moment. His eyes darted to the tankard of ale before him, his gaze then quickly shifting to meet the knowing grin. Embarrassment colored his cheeks a shade of red as the man's conversation turned to a certain topic- the frivolous nature of women. It felt both tempting and odd to Aldric. The way his words flowed effortlessly, as if he had said something similar a thousand times before, made the the boy feel uncertain, prompting a wave of skepticism to wash over. While many women had easily captured his attention, he had yet to experience any type of intimate affair.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, doubt clearly being evident with how they squinted at Tuncan. A smirk curved at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of amusement at the current situation. "I'm not quite convinced, Ser," he started, the tone suggesting his skepticism. "It appears she holds some kind of significance beyond platonic." Pausing for a moment, he maintained his gaze on the knight as he contemplated. "My friends have never regarded me in such a manner," he confirmed.

Memories of childhood stories flashed back, and instantly the young squire found himself in a world of chivalry and daring adventure. With a dreamy gaze, he cradled his head in his hand. His imagination began to take off, and he pictured himself as a knight in shining armor. "I may not be deemed a suitable suitor for such a role now,” he said softly. His eyes wandered from the man before him, soon tracing the patterns on the tavern ceiling during speculation. Aldic was finally beginning to feel more comfortable in the foreign atmosphere. “But one day, Ser Tuncan, if I am awarded knighthood, I shall win the heart of a princess.” Everything around him seemed to fade away. "I can see it now," he continued, his eyes growing with determination. "She will be imprisoned in a tower, guarded by a fierce dragon who breathes fire. But fear not, by then, I will have mastered the art of the sword. I shall vanquish the beast and free her from captivity. And once we're both under the moon, I will declare my love for her.”

Dryness soon enveloped his mouth, bringing him back to the present moment. "I think I'll have some water now, if I may," he declared. He didn't anticipate rejection; rather, he sought to avoid having to engage in conversation with the barmaid who'd been serving Tuncan.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Tuncan sat in silence, the kind that a knight ought to afford a squire in his presence; nay, in his service, never mind employment. Sure, there were servers in their midst, employed by the owner of this establishment and, his wooden demeanor aside, he was no unkind man despite his cries in the kitchen.

What really held Ser Tuncan’s attention at that moment was none other than Aldric. The former held his smile, never wavering under the circumstances, while the latter rested his head in his hand, and the lad did have his own mind. It reminded the man of when he was a boy, when he sat in a tavern just like this, his gaze chasing after barmaids.

“Princess, is it?” Tuncan sipped and, when he did, it suddenly tasted even more delicious. He relished conversation like this. He was never a man who minded the age of the person, whether older or younger, slightly or by a league.

For age meant as much as wisdom did, and wisdom was gained, not through age, but through experience, which did not discriminate age—someone once said.

Tuncan gestured toward the water, as if permission was even needed to begin with, but it wasn’t. “Plenty of princesses out there, lad. Plenty of dragons too, you ken?” He broke bread. “Might be you’ve heard of Malkath and Thanasis and, if you haven’t, best not tread there unless you already have a dragon.”

Though, whatever Tuncan knows of this world, he made sure to dress his tongue in subtlety as much as fantasy. Did that simply mean fallacy? Probably. “Though your words are like those of a poet, I’ll give you that.” He slipped a piece of bread between his teeth, gaze never wavering from his contemporary.

“Ah, dinna fash. Lizzie is a bonny lass but perhaps not the lady for either of us.” He washed his morsel down with more ale. “Tell me…” And perhaps Aldric had already but maybe Tuncan had forgotten it. “Why do you wish to become a knight?” He looked between the boy’s eyes. “Besides mastering the art of the sword to free your eternal lover from a tower, aye.”

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

The squire quickly nodded in agreement with the man's inquiry. With the vision of elegance and grace in mind, he simply could not fathom settling for anything less to claim as his own. The teachings instilled in him by a modest noble house, prior to his service under the man before him now, had shaped his very aspirations for someone of royal lineage. Grasping the cup firmly, he brought it to his parched lips and took a long, deep gulp. As the last of the contents disappeared from the vessel, Aldric gently placed it back on the table, his hand lingering momentarily as he wiped away any droplets that lingered on his chin.

His gaze fell over the hollow tankard, then shifted to the knight as he tore into a loaf of bread. The aroma from it teased his senses, stirring the hunger in his belly once more. The idea of multiple princesses scattered across the realm did spark a bit of optimism within him. Names of distant lands mentioned stirred a faint recognition. Yet, if presented with a blank map, he doubted he could pinpoint the names of these far off places. Soon he found himself lost in unfamiliar concepts. A chuckle nearly escaped from his lips, though it did cause his smile to widen. "Ser, why would someone want a dragon?" he asked, his brow furrowed. The concept of trying to tame such a beast seemed comical and absurd. "To keep this creature as a pet, like a cat? It seems rather silly, if you ask me." His mind swarmed with more queries at the idea, though he decided to save his curiosity for a later time.

Being compared to a poet, it almost felt like praise. But in truth, deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps he was merely repeating the same familiar childhood fairytale. Though heard countless times, it oddly carried magic in him still. The notion of becoming a knight had been in his imagination for as long as he could remember. Aldric cleared his throat. "Well," he started, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. "My worth would not be determined by riches or status, but instead by courage and honor. My family possesses little coin nor title to boast.”

A touch of anticipation could be seen in his eyes. “Surely, I’d have an opportunity to travel to distant lands, and defend the weak against any injustice. I would even be able to ride forth towards the calling of it all on a steed of my own.” His chin lifted, and a touch of mischief would then be heard in his tone. “And, I've already chosen a name for my faithful companion, should the day arrive.”

He desired more water at that moment, but the thought of engaging Lizzie in conversation seemed more daring than any quest of adventure. Despite his many conversations with Ser Tuncan, the knight who had taught him so much, he felt as though there were still countless unanswered questions. It was becoming difficult to contain his excitement. “Have you ever battled a legendary creature, or saved a princess? I’m sure there are many tales which you have yet to tell me! Perhaps you’ve even soared through the sky above on one of those dragons you speak of.”

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Grateful for bread, it allowed Tuncan to digest the words of his speaker, and that was what Aldric was in that moment; no little, no less. A kid with wisdom if ever there was one. Though this hard bread was hardly breakfast, brunch or lunch. When would his come? Tuncan could only wonder. It wasn’t up to his server but the kitchen. For the moment, however, his thoughts lingered, not on satisfying his stomach with plunder, but on his squire, and the words given to him were worth much more than wind.

The lad’s answer was rather trite at first and that was fine. Why did anyone want to become a knight? To travel to distant lands, to defend the weak against injustice, to ride forth toward it all to the call of a steed, quite naturally. A simple question, a simple answer, one that Ser Tuncan would not hold against him. However, Aldric expanded on his note the next moment.

Tuncan stifled a giggle at the wee lad’s proclamation of having already chosen a name for his faithful companion. Does he mean his woman or his dragon? He sipped ale from his tankard. Aye, one man’s woman is another boy’s horse. He stifled a laugh; though it was in good humor over mockery. Tuncan just wasn’t one to make fun of others unless they did so to him first, never mind his very own apprentice.

There were words galore, much and more, for the man to respond to, so he took his time to chew between his responses, measuring his words with his teeth between stale bread and tongue between sips of ale. “Edenham has and always will be my homeland, bhalaich, as my laird and kin has been, ya ken?” He did not wait for a response.

“Nay, I have battled no legendary creature, nor saved a princess—save in my dreams, hm.” It was a short laugh between his lips; as much a sigh. “Yet I have tales to tell in my travels within and without our fine Edenham, aye. From bandits on the road to those who did me injustice and Ser Tuncan obtained his vengeance, ha.” He glanced to his side at other patrons within this tavern; they were so busy caught up in their own merriment and conversations to pay these two gentlemen no mind.

“Firstly, I tell ye, ever since I was but a wee bairn, adventure burned in my heart, hm? To ride a dragon is a dream beyond my position, hm. Not yet. Yet they are not pets. They can be your best friend or your worst enemy, you ken?” He was running out of bread.

“Where our worth—aye, you and I—is not determined by riches or status, but instead by courage and honor, much can be said for dragons. Maybe one or a dozen of them hoards over treasure, yet in one place or another they are revered as some worship the sun.”

Tuncan swallowed the last remnant of his bread. “Dinna fash,” the Knight grinned. “In the end, a young man does not need coin or a title, dragon or a woman, to become a man. He only needs wisdom, a good tutor, and a stiff drink when he reaches his day and age.” He winked and took a deep swig of his drink.

"Ah,” he blinked toward the kitchen as a young woman came toward them. “Here comes lunch. And Lizzie. Your wife, if I should so cry.” His devilish gaze rested on Aldric’s face. “Shall I?”

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

As Ser Tuncan’s story unfolded, he found himself captivated by the tales, his imagination soaring to distant lands in his mind’s eye. Respite from his squire duties was a rare and precious gift. In this tavern, surrounded by the scent of ale and the sound of chatter, Alric figured that was exactly where he was meant to be—listening closely to the tales of a true knight. For the young boy, his mentor seemed to carry an aura of invincibility, as though he were convinced that no one could outmatch his skill with the sword. Seated at the table, he felt certain of one thing: he was in the presence of a true master of the blade. As words were spoken of the unfortunate bandits and vengeance, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear for any who dared to cross him.

The boy observed as he savored the bread. His young heart had so many questions. How could such a threatening beast be a friend? His mind raced with conflicting images of dangerous dragons from the stories of old, their destructive power etched into his imagination. The concept of camaraderie with one seemed to defy all logic. "How could a dragon be your friend?" he wondered aloud, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Why would they be revered, when they don't do any good deeds?" he mused, his words hanging in the air. His confusion was palpable. "And what are they worshiped by, other dragons?”

Before much longer the squire nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes having admiration and determination shining within. "I am fortunate to have such a knowledgeable mentor by my side," he affirmed. "With each lesson learned, I will try to grow not only in skill but in wisdom, too. And when the time is right, I shall come forward and partake of this mysterious elixir of manhood!"

In an instant he found himself paralyzed by Tuncan's mere utterance of Lizzie’s name. He felt a flood of emotions surged through him. Uncertainty and vulnerability danced within as he strived to maintain composure. More accustomed to conversing with peers of his own age, he felt unease at the idea of interacting with the older woman. Nevertheless, curiosity still got the better of him, and he couldn't resist stealing a glance in her direction over his shoulder.

Bringing his elbows on the wooden table, he raised his trembling hands to shield his face from everything around him, his gaze darting up to meet the knight's steady gaze. "Ser," he began, the words stumbling out of his mouth. His voice made his inner turmoil clear as he struggled with the ever increasing anxiety in his stomach. “The burden of my armor alone is enough to bear. I can barely handle the weight of it bringing me down," he confessed. "She is far too mature for someone like me; pursuing courtship would be more daunting than any trial you have set before me.” Fear settled upon his shoulders, yet deep down he knew that what lay ahead was inevitable.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Torn between gazing at the plate coming his way and the companion sitting across from him, Tuncan settled his gaze on the latter, his smile never fading. The way the lad covered his face, spoke in that dignified tone despite the circumstances, made his armor appear to be featherweight in comparison. A brave boy, if a blushing one, but such is the way of the youth. Tuncan was once young too.

“Ah, yet the squire does not yet know what kinds of trials the knight has set before him, hm?” Tuncan drummed a finger on his cup, narrowing his gaze on Aldric, daring him to blink away. “You think bandits and dragons are dangerous? Wait till you train with me and the blade, laddy.” Though that might yet excite the lad. “And when we visit the pigs you will only wish you had kissed Lizzie.” Tuncan winked, leaving it ambiguous as to whether he was kidding, as Lizzie arrived the very next moment.

“Breakfast is served, m’laird!” She grinned, setting a plate down before Tuncan and Aldric too if he had requested anything. “Though I must admit, Ser Tuncan, breakfast ended more than a minute ago. You do like your eggs and bacon!”

“Indeed I do,” Tuncan smiled back, playfully but not romantically. In the end, however, he had long since learned that a man can do this or that without aiming for affection but a woman ultimately interpreted actions, gestures and words in one way or the other. Such was the burden of interaction. “Breakfast for lunch, breakfast for dinner. Can never get enough, hm.”

He took another sip of ale, licked his lips at his plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, haggis, tattie scones, beans, mushrooms, potatoes and tomatoes. They called this the full Eden breakfast, though like with many dishes it came with subtle variations. Tuncan liked his this way.

“Yet I’m not much of a laird, am I, aye?” His fork stabbed a sausage link as his knife cut it in half. “A towerhouse, farmland, mill and manor.” A slice of sausage found its way into his mouth. He chewed before speaking further. “Hardhal is but the humble home of a knight and I shall have it no other way.” He washed his morsel down with ale. “Tastes great as always, by the way.”

“I thank ye, Ser Knight!” Lizzie stood with a hand on her hip, other hand resting on the back of Tuncan’s chair, but her gaze found the younger lad’s face. “And who’s the name of your squire? I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” She could hardly suppress her chuckle. “My, aren’t you cute!?”

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

The squire's anxiety intensified with each passing moment. His eyes darted nervously between Tuncan's gaze and the rhythmic drumming of the man's finger on the cup. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, he found it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the words flowing from the knight’s lips. A myriad of questions swirled in his mind, each one more perplexing than the last. What were these mysterious pigs he spoke of, and why did they hold such importance? The mere thought of having to kiss Lizzie sent a shiver down his spine, raising doubts about the true nature of this peculiar situation. Was this a mere coincidence, or had he stumbled into a meticulously crafted test by his mentor.

He steadied his hands, the trembling finally subsiding. Yet, as his fingers interlocked above his eyes, his focus narrowed to a singular point: the individual sitting directly in front of him. It felt as if time itself had momentarily frozen. With each passing second, the weight of the moment pressed down upon him. The woman's voice drifted in from the side, barely registering in his mind as he caught a quick glimpse of her hand placing a plate on the table between them. Despite the growling protests of his empty stomach, the thought of eating never crossed his mind.

His senses were consumed by the vibrant energy emanating from the barmaid, one that felt as though it could envelop the entire room. There was no doubt a warmth to her presence, and an openness that could draw others in. Under different circumstances, he could have mirrored such spirit, but for now, he was caught in the grip of his own inner struggle. The knight indulging in his meal and washing it down with ale was a familiar ritual he often saw play out before him.

As conversation flowed between the two, Aldric made a conscious effort to quiet his thoughts, searching for a way to navigate the social interaction unfolding before him. Though his cheeks burned with embarrassment, he felt no choice but to meet her gaze as she soon acknowledged him. The boy had the courage to only meet it for a brief moment, before retreating back to the safety of Ser Tuncan. Though his lips parted in an attempt to speak, the words failed to escape. He felt trapped in an awkward silence.

Fidgeting nervously now, he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two figures. "I, uhh," he began, his voice quickly faltering. "I am the squi-," his words trailed off. The boy’s mouth gaped open as he found himself staring into the barmaid's eyes. "You may call me Aldric?" he managed to say at last in a desperate plea, his words carrying self-doubt. It was as though he couldn’t grasp at his own identity and needed approval for his very existence.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Definitely no shy man, neither a knight, Tuncan used this time to chew his food with a grin toward his companion as he listened to the conversation exchanged between the young man and the young woman. The smile in the knight’s eyes would read for the squire that he would get no help from him, oh no. If he wanted out of this situation then embarrassment was not the ticket. A woman wanted a response and, in his experience, women got what they wanted more often than not.

The moment did take him back, however. Though Tuncan’s thoughts did not dwell on his own childhood, too busy eating and listening, he did see in Aldric someone who, perhaps ironically, he never was. Nay, Tuncan was always outgoing, always one to get up to no good with the lads and the lasses. Granted, for the former that meant roughing it up in rugby, and the latter some stolen kisses into the evening.

Still, Aldric was similar to the wee laddybuck that was Tuncan as much as different. He was a fourteen-year-old boy who wanted to be a knight. To the man, that was fine.

“Aldric?” Lizzie smiled wide, wider than Tuncan did. Her eyes were wide too, and that other gesture was also kinder. Definitely sweeter. That was just her character. Obviously, she was too old for the boy and, while not too old for the man, their hearts were just not intertwined. “Meaning is ‘old king’ if memory serves me.”

“Watch out for this one, laddy,” Tuncan added after swallowing a bite of bacon. “She’s modest, a barmaid, aye, but she has the wisdom of literacy and history that would turn the eyes of dragons.” He knew she liked him, couldn’t help that, but also knew to let her know when he was teasing, which generally meant getting slapped. She did just that.

A hand across his shoulder later and Lizzie spoke between both men. “Think me worthy to be with a beast, is it, Ser Tuncan!? Tis you who speak humbly yet only a landed knight of the gentry gets a keep like yours!” Of course, she spoke no less in jest, and Tuncan sure as haggis took no offense. “Dinna fash, lad,” Lizzie said to Aldric. “No need to get embarrassed in my presence. It’s your friend who should be blushin’ red as a beet, methinks.”

Lizzie grinned. Tuncan didn’t. “He ever tell ya about his mistress, Fiona? Bonny lass, that one.”

“Now, Lizzie,” Tuncan frowned. “Let’s not bore the lad on matters of misplaced affection, shall we?”

“It’s you who started it, ya ken!” Another slap. This time on the back of Tuncan’s head. “Would ya like to know, Squire Aldric? From me or from him?” She grinned.

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

As he sat there, his eyes darted nervously between Lizzie and Ser Tuncan. He could feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on him. Answering the barmaid’s initial question had been akin to navigating a maze, and now the squire was faced with another inquiry. He could sense the impending struggle ahead. It didn’t seem to be getting any easier.

He pondered the meaning of his name, while the memories of his parent’s faces flickered briefly in his mind. His attention was brought back to the present as his mentor began speaking of dragons once more, and then he heard the sudden sound of a slap before him. The boy's eyes widened in surprise, and his hand moved on its own accord, instinctively seeking the sword at his side. Despite what he originally detected as a threat, it would soon be dismissed by Ser Tuncan’s relaxed posture and the barmaid’s remarks. Yet, his hand remained poised near the hilt, ready to spring into action at a second’s notice.

Despite Lizzie’s reassurance, the blush continued to stain his cheeks, showing his lingering embarrassment. As the second slap landed, a faint hint of surprise flickered across his face, though it quickly vanished. He still found it a bit strange. The mention of a mistress further bewildered him, leaving Aldric rather confused by the complexities of the conversation taking place before him. Finally, with a deep breath, the boy leaned back in his seat, his hands finding their place in his lap, a brief moment of tranquility amidst the chaos he had just experienced. Even with his upbringing among a family of higher social status, the concept of a mistress was a mystery to him. It was one he had not encountered before. The matters of Ser Tuncan's personal life was a realm he had never delved into much unless the man was in the mood to speak about it. Turning his attention to the knight, he began seeking clarity. "Do you mean to say you have two wives?" he inquired, his brow furrowing. "If Fiona is your second wife, then perhaps she is favored over the first?" he mused.

The curiosity that so often burned within him was returning. A single hand lifted to graze alongside his chin as more questions began dancing in his mind, begging to be explored and brought to truth. His eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity before his mentor. "So, it's possible for me to have two princesses then, right Ser?" Aldric’s voice was filled with innocence. His gaze momentarily shifted towards Lizzie. But as quickly as it had come, the squire’s gaze retreated. "But that means I would have to slay two dragons, of course," he continued, full of determination again. "Do you think it's really possible?”

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

At first, it was all Tuncan could do to listen to Aldric and stare at his face in silence. Fortunately he wasn’t alone. He witnessed Lizzie in his peripheral vision but could just as much feel her eyebrow raise as his own twitched. Both persons were positively torn between bursting out laughing or thinking over the wisdom in this kid’s question.

Wife, wives, neither term had ever entered the conversation—except for that one moment that Tuncan had teased Aldric with crying to Lizzie as the squire’s wife, that was, so maybe this was payback from the wee lad? Hm. Perhaps. The knight chewed on his thoughts, quite literally, gnawing on haggis. Nah. Dinna fash, Tunc. Tis only a young man’s way of mistaking ‘wife’ for ‘mistress’. Even though memories burned within him that moment—just never on his face.

From mistresses to princesses, and there’s an argument for the ages, no mistake. Coincidence? Fate? Whatever it was, Aldric Pembroke’s words were making Tuncan MacKraser’s thoughts give him pause. From the mouths of babes, eh? Nay. This man’s no green weening bairn. Tuncan was determined to not let his amusement as much as being impressed show on his countenance. He’ll make a fine brave laird someday.

“Two princesses?” Lizzie exclaimed, sharing the same taste for comedy as drama. “My, you’ll make a fine knight for the tales, m’boy, if not a husband and a prince!” She giggled.

Tuncan didn’t. “Two dragons, aye.” He traded his haggis for a forkful of beans and potato in one bite. “Never mind your princesses, hm. I think you’d make the greatest dragonslayer of the ages, ha.” That laugh of his; ever delicate; having changed the topic from honest husband to combat in a flash and dinna fash. “I shall show you the great ways of the sword, hm?” Tuncan closed in. “Aldric the Slayer. Now how’s that sound?”

“Sounds right up the dandy alley with Knight MacKraser,” Lizzie teased. “Only better, for this man’s mistress, Fiona…”

“Please, Lizzie…”

“Was a horse.”

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

Aldric observed with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as Ser Tuncan continued digging into his meal. The knight's liking for food was evident in every bite he took, as if he had been deprived of it for weeks. As he stole glances at the knight, he couldn't help but feel a pang of hunger himself, his own stomach rumbling in protest. Yet, amidst the clatter of cutlery and the hearty laughter of his companions, Aldric found himself gradually relaxing in the presence of Lizzie.

The barmaid's words floated through the air like a sweet melody. The idea of being a knight so noble and revered that he was immortalized in tales that spread through the lands of Arethil sparked a flicker of hope in his young heart. The images of epic adventures danced in his mind just as it had done so earlier. He couldn’t help but let himself dream of a destiny far greater than his humble origins. It was almost too fantastical to grasp.

Just when the narrative seemed to reach its peak, Ser Tuncan effortlessly elevated the tale to new heights, leaving the young squire spellbound and yearning for more. "A dragon slayer," he whispered in awe, his eyes widening with excitement. He had nearly forgotten about the other person at their table. "With you as my mentor, anything is achievable," he proclaimed. Gradually, the heat subsided from his cheeks as he remained entranced. When Aldric thought he had a grasp on the story's trajectory, a sudden twist sent a shockwave through him. Lizzie's unexpected revelation shattered his previous notions, leaving him in disbelief. His raised eyebrow and dropped jaw displayed the astonishment that coursed through him. It left him questioning everything he thought he knew.

It was clear that Ser Tuncan held this mistress in high regard, a fact that piqued his curiosity. Deciding to play along with the woman’s joke, a mischievous smirk slowly crept upon his face. "Ser, I don't ever recall hearing about this Fiona," he began, carefully choosing his words to maintain the notion of being serious. Despite his best efforts, a suppressed laugh threatened to escape. The absurdity of it all was too much to bear. "Was this horse a mare," he continued, his hand instinctively reaching to his mouth in an attempt to conceal the laughter bubbling beneath the surface. "Or, was it a stallion," he concluded, unable to contain his mirth any longer.

Before much longer both hands firmly pressed against his stomach as he surveyed the plate of food before him again. The aroma was urging him to speak up. With a deep inhale, he summoned the courage to address the barmaid. His gaze shifted to her attentive eyes. "I would like to eat something, too," he said, his voice carrying a hint of innocence. He was uncertain about the offerings of this tavern. Anything sounded good at this point.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Well, the cat was out of the bag now, as they say. A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse. Tuncan poked at sausage with his fork. Aye, and now I need a tassie of whiskey for this tale, never mind ale. For the moment, the knight just sat in silence, gaze lowered to his plate of food; finding an excuse for it anyway. O how he had wished that Lizzie the barmaid would not spill the beans on this knight’s intricate complexities with Fiona! This conversation was definitely not on his agenda.

“Twas a mare,” Tuncan dared to answer his very own squire, eyes still lowered, absently forking through tattie scones and never mind that tassie of whiskey for the moment. “Hm, Fiona is no name fit for a stallion, ya ken, for a male horse, ya slippery walloper!?” Words spoken half in embarrassment, half in irritation, half in merriment—whatever that meant.

“Tis a good question, Ser Tuncan!” O’course, Lizzie was already gigglin’ at this moment. “No discrimination! Fiona’s a bonnie name for any stallion I reckon!”

Then it was Aldric’s turn to burst out loud in a laughing fit. Sure, it was conversely quiet, but he could not hide it. Tuncan could hear it beneath the crafty laddy’s surface as surely as Lizzie’s bosom.

“Now see here, my squire,” Tuncan glared at his squire. “It is indeed a long and complex story, aye, filled with…more drunkenness than debauchery unsuited to beasts and men…suffice to say a gamble was made and by the time I realized who Fiona actually was, hm, I was already too—”

“I can fetch a menu for you,” Lizzie interrupted; whether because she had heard this story half a dozen times or was trying to spare Tuncan the embarrassment was uncertain. “Same vittles as your knight if you’d like. Otherwise we’ve got fresh bread, stews and soups, roasted meats, pottage and porridge, only…” She pursed her lips with a finger. “We’re fresh out of horse meat. Sorry, laddie!”

Lizzie laughed. Tuncan didn’t.

Cosmas (Aldric Pembroke)

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

The air seemed to be alive now with the joyful sounds of laughter, spilling from Aldric's mouth and filling the air around them. His wide grin stretched from ear to ear as he eagerly awaited the knight's response. Even though he already knew the answer, it was amusing to see how he would react under the pressure of Lizzie's watchful gaze too. The squire was filled with a sense of light-heartedness as she casually made a joke about the tavern running out of horse meat.

It was as if the grin were permanently etched into the boy’s features; there was even a mischievous sparkle in his eye as he looked over to Lizzie. ” I'll have the same as Ser Tuncan," he declared with casual ease, his tone filled with confidence for the first time since being approached by the barmaid. It was evident that divulging more details of the story wasn't making the situation any easier for him, no doubt one reason being the persistent prodding of the woman nearby.

Tuncan's words lingered in the air, their meaning not entirely clear even after he had given Lizzie his order. They did spark a flicker of curiosity within him, wanting to reveal more about this mystery surrounding Fiona. The only connection he had ever known between beasts and men was the art of horsemanship, taught to him during his time with a noble family. As he thought about his next question, his lips curved slightly to the side, contemplating the right words. "Well," he began, his voice measured and intent, "what was the gamble for?" he inquired. Given the activities of the day and still in need of dinner himself, he didn’t see them leaving the establishment any time soon. "I suppose we have time to spare," he mused, gesturing towards their surroundings. "Feel free to share the full tale."

The squire's mind buzzed with more inquiries, each prying for attention. Despite the sense of contentment that his kingdom brought, a restlessness stirred within his soul. Without a single pause so that the knight could respond, he couldn’t help but continue. "Ser, when was the last time you ventured out of Edenham?" If anything, it was a subtle invitation to delve into a topic beyond the mundane conversations about Fiona.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Ah, and there’s the dreaded question: What was the gamble for? Perhaps the wager was as important as the foundation of the game between Tuncan and his companions way back when. Granted, the man might not be as irritated as he might let off, what with that devilish grin of his, but his embarrassment wasn’t fiction. He didn’t want to entertain this tale to begin with. It was Lizzie’s pressing of the buttons that had divulged even an inkling of secrets. Yet not enough to turn the knight’s countenance pale. Though, no real friction.

“Feel free, is it?” Tuncan challenged the wee laddybuck suddenly as devious as him, a full-grown lad, never mind a knight. Even today, Ser Tuncan MacKraser would be scorned for getting up to his antics; never treacherous, never earning a sword or axe for his neck, but nonetheless mischievous. “Tis a tale for the ages, hm, if not quite for the pages,” he winked.

“Ya see— ” Tuncan was half-ready to give a lipful of his story, as well as a smattering of rebuke and rebuttal for both persons in his presence, but even as he elected to spill some beans in his own measure, well, the younger lad had given him yet another question. My saving grace, mayhap.

Mundane indeed. Stallions. Mares. Horses of any breed. Gamblers and drinkers, drunkards and gambling endeavors and dares, why, this was one knight to only give his thanks and nod ‘Aye’ at the change in topic. It was to his own detriment. The man was said to be too honest for his own good and might just have told Aldric everything under the hood when it came to the beast named Fiona. Instead, he had no need. This next tidbit would lead to a far more important and interesting story.

“Ah dinnae ken,” Tuncan sipped. “Not in specific, that is.” A forkful of beans entered his lips as he chewed on his thoughts and memories. “A fortnight ago, as the lone magpie flies.” Some kind of expression, whatever it meant. “Had to track down some bandits, hm.” He spoke as though it was his pastime, if not his favorite.

“He canny haud that haver,” Lizzie said as if she was suddenly more of a native and less of a linguist. “Ser Tuncan here was personally charged by the laird of the lands to deliver justice to those bandits, aye!” She lifted Tuncan’s tankard to her lips and took a sip. “Haste ye back, said he, and long may yer rum leek!”

Tuncan just blinked.

“Vicious bandits met their end at the edge of the knight’s weapon!"

"Your tone's out the window," Tuncan spoke; she was exaggerating his service, in other words. "I just did my duty. As any subject must, hm." Eyes on his squire, as if he expected no less from Aldric's service.

Aldric Pembroke

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

Aldric savored the moment of shared laughter, a brief respite from the day's worries. However, he couldn't help but notice Lizzie's unwillingness to let the conversation of Fiona fade away so easily. As she casually sipped from Ser Tuncan's tankard, a gesture that hinted at familiarity, the boy couldn't help but wonder once more on the nature of their relationship. Despite the camaraderie, there was another layer of depth to their connection. However, he wouldn’t dare mention it with both figures in front of him.

Lizzie’s constant interruptions and unnecessary commentary touched his nerves. Despite his enjoyment of the knight's tales, her constant babbling threatened to drown out the richness of the stories. The boy clenched his jaw in frustration, silently wishing for a moment of rest from her presence. With a sigh, he contemplated his options, pondering whether ordering food again would serve as a subtle hint for her to depart the table.

The squire deliberately lifted both hands from the table surface and brought them back to rest on his stomach. “I feel as though all the day's hunger has hit me all at once," he said in a nonchalant tone, as if he were nudging the barmaid to remember the order he had placed mere moments ago.

A sense of understanding washed over him as his eyes locked with Ser Tuncan. Without another word spoken, he felt a shift within himself, his body instinctively straightening, his posture becoming more confident. Despite the lively banter and laughter carrying on around their table, he found his sense of clarity once more, as if everything else faded into the background. As he surveyed the food before them, his thoughts swirled with a sense of wonder, always eager to delve deeper into the mysteries of Arethil and everything the world had to offer.

Pondering his next question, his brow furrowed. "Ser, what is the furthest you've traveled from Edenham?" he inquired. Yet, as his gaze momentarily shifted to the surface of the table, it was evident that there were even more questions lingering on the tip of his tongue. In a rush of thought, the image of the sigil bearing the iconic apple tree of their homeland flashed through his mind, a symbol of his roots and heritage that he was certain they both held dear. "Have you ever visited The Eldyr Tree before?" he then continued. Memories of tales heard during his time as when studying under the minor noble family began to resurface. "I remember hearing it is near the Bagath Stone, though, I don’t have any idea of which direction that is from here."

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

The knight might have sighed in relief but knew better than to lest he get hit upside the head again by the barmaid in their shared presence. Yet it would have been warranted. His squire was as crafty in speech as in action. “Aye, the lad is hungry, and squires need their feasts as much as us,” he also prompted for Lizzie to hurry and scurry. He enjoyed her company but not too much under the circumstances.

“Aye,” Lizzie sighed. “No need to tell me twice, I’ll have ya think,” she winked. She walked off the next moment and, whatever Aldric’s thoughts, Tuncan knew that neither he nor she thought further of it. It was but a minor interruption in a greater conversation between a knight and his squire. She liked him, aye, but there was major importance between these two elements sat at a table and, in their newfound privacy, Ser Tuncan was determined to give Aldric his attention as far as able.

“Have a rasher of bacon while ya wait, laddie,” he gestured as his friend waited for his own plate. Either way Tuncan would be sure his squire would return the favor by replacing his rasher when the occasion called for it. “Plenty of bread too.” A replacement plate of it was complimentary and on the house and brought out with Tuncan’s dish. This was different to his haggis and tattie scones, make no mistake.

“The furthest from Edenham?” Tuncan considered the question, gazing over Aldric’s shoulder. There was a table of two men laughing and drinking on opposite ends. Beside them were two older men playing chess. On the other side were two women, silent as a still sky, contemplating. “The furthest…hm.” A laugh as much as an expression of a man thinking.

Before he could answer, however, the young man before him yet again asked him something with that infant curiosity of his; which was no insult by any manner. Were I no less curious as him in his age, or me in mine, why, what would I be if not a knight?

“Ah, Eldyr Tree, you speak?” That did bring him memories. “Far east, across the continent, in the mountains of the Spine. A long journey from these lands but it was worth it.” Tuncan shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. Also perilous. Yet, make no mistake, the Eldyr Tree is rich with beauty as much as misery.”

For a moment, Tuncan stared off into the distance yet again. “I won’t say…what venture took me there, hm, but I will say it was worth it in the end.” He chewed on mushrooms and swallowed before speaking again. “Tell me of this Bagath Stone, ya ken. I am no old goat but too many experiences makes the memory hazy as a jakey.”

Aldric Pembroke

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

As Aldric's gaze shifted from Lizzie to Ser Tuncan, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief washing over him. The woman's departure to the kitchen brought a moment of respite, allowing him the opportunity to engage in conversation with the knight before him. Ser Tuncan's presence often exuded a sense of command and authority when he wasn’t consuming ale. The boy felt a sense of anticipation building within him, eager to delve into a conversation that promised to be enlightening and engaging. As the suggestion was made, his gaze flickered down instantly at the plate before him, the aroma wafting up to tantalize his senses. It was difficult to refuse, and his stomach growled once more; in that moment, he felt quite capable of wiping the plate clean, with not a morsel left behind.

Reaching out with a quickness, Aldric snatched a piece of crispy, savory bacon. As his teeth sunk into it, it seemed to disappear into his mouth with one swift bite; then, glancing up at the gaze of Ser Tuncan, a mischievous grin danced across his face, almost as if he had been caught in some sort of guilty pleasure. His fingers then scooped up a piece of bread, and he delicately nibbled on it. It was simple enough to make the young squire feel content and satisfied.

He was so engrossed in every bite, the question he had posed had slipped from his mind. But as the man across from him started to speak, his attention snapped back into focus. The knight’s voice was deep and rich, one that commanded attention. Aldric's eyes, previously filled with contentment, widened as he leaned forward. He was captivated by the words.

Each word seemed to bring a new question in the squire's inquisitive mind. "I dare say, it can't be too distant," Aldric pondered, his memory flickering back to the times he had stumbled upon its location on a map. Yet, he still remained a stranger to distant lands, and quite unaware of any perils that lay waiting. He followed his companion's gaze. It seemed this brief exchange had been his mentor’s longest pause from the tankard of ale. The mention of the Bagath Stone brought a furrow to his brow. In truth, he had heard little of this mysterious area. "Ser, all I've been told is it just makes traveling a bit easier," the boy mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he stroked his chin. "But if you ask me, that seems to take all of the fun out of traveling, no? There’s no fun in that."

There was a brief pause. "I wish I could travel there one day, or somewhere just as exciting," he said at last. It was as though he was extending an invitation to the knight, a silent beckoning to embark on some sort of journey.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Distance, Tuncan had since learned, was something that depended on the traveler. From the forests of Falwood to the forests of the Spine, across continents, the Eldyr Tree was a long but not boring journey for this knight. Over days and nights, sleeping under trees or in taverns, he had gotten there eventually. Yet it was no stepping stone away by any means. Then again, his friend did echo his own notion over sentiments of the very journey.

“Aye.” Tuncan raised his tankard as if his squire might also have one. It didn’t matter. He sipped alone but never alone. “That is the adventurer in you, lad, hm. The one whose heart cries for the outside. Whose mind knows that, though his heart is content in his current land, in his home, there is so much more to explore beyond the walls and the streets, the wells and the trees, beautiful though they be in our fine Edenham.” He raised his drink for another drink.

“Where there is wonder in reading and dreaming, I ask ye, where is the wonder in staying in one spot for too long, hm?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “The journey comes with my charge and heart of being a knight, ya ken.” He slipped a forkful of potato and tomato between his teeth before speaking again. “Aye, a man like me gets the best of both worlds, sees much grass and many fields…and many breeds of lasses quite unlike Lizzie.” He winked.

“Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye.” He remembered his mother, his adventurers, and those who were ghosts but also ever in his presence. “What’s meant to happen will happen, or what will be will be.” Tuncan sat back, relaxed, yet his posture betrayed the adventurer within him as he reflected.

“Ready your breakfast and eat hearty. We’ll take a wee trip to the blacksmith after this tavern where I will pick up my armor and gift you with something, hm. After that?” Tuncan downed his ale with a mighty sigh. “I think I’m quite ready for another adventure.”

Aldric Pembroke

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

With each delicate nibble of his food, he found himself captivated by the sight of Ser Tuncan. When the tankard was lifted, the man had a way of holding it as though it carried more stories of honor and valor. Though Aldric's own hands were empty, he felt an urge to participate in the moment of camaraderie. So, he offered a small nod, his lips curving into a smile that warmed his heart, an acknowledgment of the bond the two shared. It was the young squire’s own quiet way of joining the toast, and expressing gratitude for the joys of their friendship.

During his continuous attempts to reach for his plate, he kept quiet and continued nodding in agreement. Deep down, he couldn't imagine living anywhere else other than the kingdom of Edeham; after all, he had only known happiness here for as long as he could remember.

As Tuncan spoke of various breeds of lasses, a spark of curiosity could be seen in his eyes. Aldric then leaned closer, the warmth of the knight's voice now wrapping around him like a cloak, further assuring him that none of them were like Lizzie either. It was as though he had been drawn into a world of possibilities. His hands halted against the plate of food, though still hovering above the surface. Though his lips remained sealed, it seemed as if he were saying, Is that so?

Cradling a small potato in his hands, he took a small bite. The squire felt grounded in the moment. His mind wandered, contemplating the weight of the knight’s words before repeating them in a murmur, “Whatever happens will happen.” The phrase was simple, but somehow left a profound impact on him. His gaze wandered around the tavern, simply enjoying the easy flow of conversation that now ensued, no longer disrupted by the barmaid's constant interruptions.

The sudden offer of a gift and an adventure startled him, leaving him speechless as he struggled to process the sudden opportunity. Questions raced through his mind as he desired to know more details. "Where are we headed, Ser?" he quickly blurted out, devouring his food. Crumbs and flakes gathered at the corners of his mouth. The squire had lost all concern he once had for etiquette. He was ready to embark on this adventure right now, without a second thought.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Meals upon meals. That was what was promised to Ser Tuncan MacKraser before he ever became a knight. He was content with it. To simply eat and drink? Aye, that was a far cry from living in poverty by any means. Granted, he was born into a family of enough recognition to be considered landed knights; gentry, after a manner of speaking, but such was semantics.

Aldric Pembroke? The above didn't matter. Tuncan had since decided to challenge the lad, to break and best him as one bakes bread and boils beets, beat him in sports and teach him with swords, but also spoil him as much as make him toil for his apprenticeship.

For Ser Tuncan, the status did not matter as much as the stature; the character covered the grandeur. So they both ate and they drank the minutes away and the only time Lizzie came back was to refill a tankard or add more bacon to the plate.

Tuncan could forgive the lass despite her incessant antics. Aye, 'twas hard to depart the minutes away from a man you fancied, but she had to learn her way in her youth as much as Aldric did in his. He would in turn.

“Where are we headed?” Tuncan repeated after he finished his meat and taters. “That is yet to be seen, young sir. To the blacksmith first.” He finished his tankard and, while a bit buzzed given this many refills in, there was a difference between being that and drunk and he wasn’t the latter.

They arrived at the blacksmith. It wasn’t far down the cobblestone-built path where carriages past them amid horses untethered except to bridle and master. Pedestrians walked. Others hung outside establishments or within alleyways but Tuncan paid none any mind on their way.

“Tiptop shape as always,” Ewan the Smith claimed. He was bald of head, great in beard, fierce in appearance but gentler in demeanor.

“Aye, tis,” Tuncan agreed as he looked over his armor. “You have my thanks, hm,” he grinned.

“Who’s the lad?” Ewan asked.

The knight turned to the squire. “Aldric Pembroke. My apprentice.” He looked him square in the eye. “Tell me, are you ready to fetch my armor, dress in my garments, as much as die for me?”

Aldric Pembroke

 

[Aldric Pembroke]

As if transported to a different realm altogether, Aldric found himself consumed by the abundance of food that Ser Tuncan treated him to. With the different scents wafting around him, he showed no hesitation as the different flavors were felt on his tongue. The clinking of tankards and noisy chatter around him quickly faded away. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, with no end in sight. His eyes darted from one dish to the next, trying to decide which one to savor next. Even Lizzie's interruptions couldn't break his trance now.

Once they left the tavern, he would feel embarrassment from something entirely different. The squire's stomach was bloated from the hearty meals earlier, and was now panting as he struggled to keep pace with Ser Tuncan. His steps became more clumsy, and his movements overall appeared a bit more sluggish. He felt weighed down by his previous indulgence. Despite his best efforts, the knight's strides were too fast, leaving Aldric panting and sweating in an attempt to keep up on their journey to the blacksmith.

Still, the excitement within never wanted; rather, it only intensified as they drew closer. Soon he heard the sounds of hammer strikes and the heat from the forge quickly enveloped him. The boy's hand instinctively reached for his forehead and wiped away beads of sweat. He listened to See Tuncan exchange words with the blacksmith, but in the blink of an eye, he both heard his name and felt the weight of the knight’s gaze upon him. It brought forth a surge of determination that coursed through his veins.

Aldric straightened his back, and pushed aside all other thoughts “Y-yes, my lord! More than anything.” A single step was taken forward. “I will fetch your armor before you ride into battle! I am willing to follow your every command, and would face any danger if it meant standing by your side."

A sense of purpose was reigniting within him.

He was ready to embrace the weight of duty. Aldric wanted to be more than just a boy; he was prepared for whatever trials lay ahead and risk his life for the knight that he admired most.

 

[Tuncan MacKraser]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Tuncan, naturally, stood in silence as he waited and listened for a response from his apprentice. Understandably, the young lad who was no wee laddybuck by any means was yet a bit hesitant in his speech. Though not by much. His first wavering of a stutter offered no other. Rather, he stood in determination and it dripped from his words as much as highlighted his very visage.

‘Are you ready?’ The knight had more or less asked the squire. To fetch his armor, dress him in his garments, even die for him—much and more, after a fashion, with or without the sword. Yet a knight was nothing if he offered his squire everything, simply in the sense that every scenario could never be determined.

In the wild. While at breakfast in an inn. Under the hedges or over the mountains moonlit, or under the heavens, or sunrise over the horizon. It didn’t matter in the end. If a knight was ready to face the day and night then the squire had to be brave enough to ride beside and walk upon the same rock.

Was Aldric Pembroke? He claimed to be. More than anything. He had even taken a step forward. Aye. Ye be hearty as mine own mead. Tuncan stifled a grin, settling for a smile at the corner of his lips as he watched his apprentice step toward him.

The young man said he was willing to follow the older man’s every command, to face any danger if it meant standing by his side, and in his eyes could be found no lies. Yet age is relevant, hm. The young die and the old die. The sword cries for the former and the cancer for the latter. And everything in between. Such is the way of life.

“You listen to him, Ewan?” Tuncan beckoned of the blacksmith without removing his eyes from his apprentice.

“Aye,” Ewan answered. “He sounds as excited as a whore this one night after the forge burned brighter than my own loins. O she had one hell of a voice and let me tell ye.”

Tuncan’s lips spread further at that into a wide grin. “Now, Ewan, Aldric isn’t yet a man known in such ways…” No judgment in his visage. “...I’d have it no other way.” It was the knight’s turn to step forward and, when he did, he retrieved, not his armor as promised to him by the blacksmith, but a different possession.

“Whatever your weapon, lad, this is forged by the finest hand in all of Edenham, hm, and mark my words for it.” Tuncan brandished the length of his gift in both hands. “Steel not from the heavens, its kiss not from hell, but from the mountains was this metal forged, born in this world of man, maker and creature, and it will serve you well as a sword fit for a squire.”

He winked. “Or else call me a liar.” Though Tuncan doubted that Aldric would. Sliding the blade from the scabbard, the steel gleamed, battle-born as if castle-forged, but Ewan the Smith was an artist fit for more.

“This is yours, to cling to your hip and even name if you wish.” Tuncan would render no judgment either way. “Yet if you wish to follow me and face danger, my friend, you will need a fine blade fit for the endeavor, and this is it.”

Aldric Pembroke