This squireship business seems like a extremely ill-advised plan. I still don’t get the connection either. It is bugging me, so I give into my curiosity and ask, since no one else has, “How have you come to know that man?” I motion to Rakatha.\
Pil looks at me, perhaps actually seeing me for the first time through the tunnel-vision of his squire dream. He makes a face like a frightened squirrel and steps backward into Vong, sending them both off balance.
Vong does a neat twirl and then plants his feet wide, quickly regaining his balance. He reaches out and steadies Pil before the boy trips over his feet and tumbles backward. All in all, an interesting maneuver done with alacrity and grace, and that I hadn’t expected from Vong.
Still holding on to Pil, Vong has become inquisitive about their relationship also, “Yeah, how’d you even find him?”
Pil looks around with a shy smile before gazing up at Rakatha with adulation, “They say he fights with the strength of ten men. That he stopped a charging minotaur with a single cut of his mighty sword! He slayed the evil Infernus the Black and saved Princess Dwyndalyn from a fate worse than death! He’s the pride of the Griffon Talon Knights!”
Not the answer I was looking for and I have serious doubts about some of his claims. I glance over at Rakatha to assess his reaction. There is a twitch around his eyes that tells me that he is dredging through forgotten memories.
“Riiight,” he says warily, “the Griffon Talon Knights. Of course.”
He’s not convincing me that Pil’s story is entirely factual. Pil, however, is hanging excitedly on his every word and is immune to dubiety.
And now Vong’s eyes are wide and sparkling also, “You never told me about any of that! That’s amazing!”
Rakatha stretches and rolls his shoulders, looking to buy some time. His eyes are darting around wildly in thought. He’s about to lie through his teeth.
“I traveled with the Griffon Talon Knights a long time ago. Seems like ages. I, uh, retired though.”
“Did you marry Princess Dwyndalyn?” Pil asks, his voice hopeful.
“Well, no…I had to slay a dragon in another kingdom. She gave me a token of her affection though,” Rakatha gets a lecherous smile at that declaration.
I guess there is some truth to that last bit by his smile. It’s all beginning to sound like an epic tale, though, and not the deeds of an alcoholic pit fighter.
“That’s too bad. She was said to be very lovely. A Knight’s work is never done though! That’s why you came out of retirement to fight back the Orc Hordes? When I heard, I knew I had to find you. It’s been my dream since I was a boy!”
He still is a boy, really. And one that can’t tell fantasy from reality. I should feel bad for people like him, who don’t have the capacity to perceive the world for what it is. And yet I don’t. People like him will be easy to subjugate.
The party continues down the road with this naive and defenseless boy in tow. No discussion as to his training, his background, or whether he would even earn a wage. The way he holds himself should announce to all that he was too young to fight when the Hordes attacked and has no training whatsoever, but I appear to be the only one to notice, as usual.
It will be a contest to see who will die first when we encounter our next enemy unit: the clumsy rogue, the pacifist altar boy, the dimwitted gladiator, the starry-eyed man-child, or the starry-eyed farm boy. I genuinely hope that it is all of them.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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