A shared nightly watch

As bounty hunters, they go where the money is. And this time the largest payment included a dilvery to a Silver dragon, handed down by the ArmsMaster himself. The Order of the Fleet Fox was being employed to help find a messenger, and the group volunteered, confident they could complete the delivery. Two days passed, and the nagging worry that their sometime companion was troubled bothered Shallan.

After beng plied with the finest vintage carried by the Cleft Tombstone for some time that watch, she finally dropped the small talk and outright asked why he was not pleased his brother was made Armsmaster of the Guild, Dwight finally relented instead of turning the question aside.

"There's a lot that people don't know about me,” he began unsteadily. “The reason for that is that I've been trying to hide as much as I could. Darik coming to Woodland was the bombshell, though... and I guess I can't keep it a secret forever... I've already told you where I'm from, a city called Joven, to the north, about 200 miles north of Mount Willow. I've also mentioned that Joven is my surname. My family owns the land that the city sits on, as well as the surrounding peasantry."

Shallan nods slowly and refills both of their drinks from the wineskin. Sometimes the application of alcohol broke down barriers.

"For over two hundred years, my ancestors have been the sworn protectors of the people of that area. The paladins of my bloodline defended our city honorably against any intruders. They also took care of the common folk. They kept themselves above, but treated them as equals. My grandfather was such a man, and I loved him very much for it. My father, however, got too wrapped up in his nobility. Now, I am the youngest of four brothers. Darik is a few years older than I."

"And Donovan, the oldest? Darik told me when I went for training at the Guild Hall..." She had been coming at this conversation obliquely, quizzing him on the coats of arms and lineages of the human realm for the past few days. An innocent enough topic, but one that would eventually lead to his own family, exactly where Shallan wanted him to go.

"Oh? Have you?"

"Yes, he beat me quit soundly." She indicates the slowly fading bruises, a raccon’s mask the lasting result from her bout.

"Always the charmer, Darik. I'll admit he is a smooth character."

"Except for him being a bit short with his errand boy, he seemed fine."

"He gets that way with his help. He takes after my father a good deal."

"I've run into the recieving end of it myself more than a few times."

"Oh?"

"That is why I decided to try my luck elsewhere. I would never be Armsmaster in court, I'm the wrong sex. So I do what I love and write when I may, and see where my feet will take me next."

"You sound as though you were free to leave, though."

"Yes, and someday I may return. But only for a visit."

"I don't think I ever want to do the same."

"Your grandfather is gone?"

"He died nobly many years ago, performing his duties. Not long before my mother, actually."

"But leaving your family over a difference in attitudes for treating those of a lower caste? There must have been something more than that to make you leave?"

"... there was..." He pauses for quite a long time, then takes a long draught of the wine. "Like I said, from the time I could hold a sword, I, like my brothers, was groomed for my place among my ancestors. Now, Donovan and Darik both take after my father, although I admit that Donovan is much more dour. They are all very serious men, at all times. My other brother, Dorian, is a lot more like my mother. He isn't uptight. He can laugh at things. I so wanted to be like him."

"Where is he?"

"When I last saw him, he was at home, with my other brothers."

"That still doesn't seem like a good reason to leave. Dorian seems like a very good reason to stay." Shallan could empathize. She missed her brother terribly, but returning in the next century was not very likely.

"The breakdown started when my mother died. She cared about us more than father ever did. She understood much better than he did that our people were real people, not just a burden to bear. She kept him in check. While she was around, I did not fear the consequences of making mistakes in training. I would be resolved to try again. Once she was gone, I had no chance to make up for any slip-ups. All I would hear was, 'You're a failure, Dwight. A whelp like you could never find his way through the citadel.’ Father... my brothers... Dorian, after mother was gone... he changed. Eventually it was too hard to go on. I lost my focus. I began to become ill for no reason. They thought I was faking, but it was all too real."

"I am not sure exactly what is worse, being given your training and not meeting standards, or beating the standards but never being offered the proper training."

"I can't say. The feeling of failure was awful, though."

"What I don't understand, is why would your brother come down to Woodland, if he was charged with protecting Joven?"

"I don't know. I was very surprised to see him again. It's not something I expected to happen."

"He was not unforgiving of my lack of skills, albeit a little rough during my training session. But nothing beyond what I've gotten in training before."

"I can't guess at his motive for coming here, or taking such a position."

"I felt it odd for someone not of the Guild to arrive and secure such a place so quickly. Don't they usually choose someone from the Guild membership?”

"I know little of the Guild's bureaucracy. It's possible that this was handed down by the king."

"I had not considered that." Human customs were still something she was getting used to. Not all positions of consequence were given to nobility where she came from.

"Woodland City and Joven lie within the same boundary and answer to the same sovereign. I was really hoping that Woodland would have been far enough to go."

"I would not recommend the Elven lands either..." She gives a quiet, throaty chuckle. It seemed nobles the world around held the same predjudices.

He echos her laugh. "You must pardon me. I know little about the ways of the elves. In fact, it was the short one, Slewfoot, that informed me that you are much older than you appear. ... No offense."

"Not at all. I have probably seen three of your lifetimes, perhaps more... And yet I am finding that things change little given time and distance."

"I had at least found that I could hide myself from the thing that I am ashamed of."

"Of being a failure? You are far from it. Perhaps you are thinking that the standard we all live to has raised a little for you? I left to find what I am truly capable of, perhaps that would fit you as well?"

"No, not being a failure... being a coward. I haven't actually told you why I ran yet." He takes a much longer drink this time. "When a Joven man comes of age, he must complete a final task, the culmination of his training. He has to face the citadel. The Citadel is both a hallowed and feared place. It is a true test of a warrior's wits, skills, courage, and fortitude. It lies on our land, surrounded by the burial grounds of our ancestors. Each of us was to venture through the citadel, face the terrors inside. Upon reaching the final chamber, one is presented with his sword, and emerges a paladin. At that point, he is designated with a color, in order of his birthright."

Shallan unconsiously raises her eyebrows at the ritual, and the result. But she says nothing and allows him to continue.

“Donovan, for example, is called the Gold. Dorian, being second in line, claimed Silver. I remember well the day that he was given his colors. He was so happy on that day... we all were. He seemed like the old Dorian. Darik was named the Bronze, as you know. As for me, I do not know, as mine was the first generation with four sons."

"And you are White, no color?"

"We were clothed in white during our years of training. That was supposed to change when I made it through the citdael. When my day came, however, I felt ill again, for the first time in a year. I knew something was wrong, but I also knew I had to face what was ahead. Everyone watched as I approached the citadel. People were lined up on the streets, like they always do when a man goes to that place. A friend, a huntsman who I knew well and saw after I had fled, told me that he could see me entering the citadel, heard me scream, and saw me run back out. What I saw there terrified me so much that I just kept running. Since that day I have not returned to Joven."

"You must forgive me, but you have to understand you now have baited my curiousity. What was there?"

He empties the remaining wine down his throat. "I saw death. I saw my father murder my mother. I saw one brother pierce the eye of another and bring him down. And then I saw myself, with all of them around me, coming closer and closer. I didn't give them the chance. I fled then and there. Since then I have been trying to forget what I saw there, and trying to prove my courage to myself." He gives a hiccup. "Hunting monsters was a way out. So now you know."

"I do. And I think none the less of you. Because you know what it is you must do. I shall be honored to be there the day you decide you must finally do it."

"You think I should go back."

"No. I think you should go forward. You've been backwards and all it has brought you is pain."

He begins to chuckle again. "Isn't it funny though? I can descend into caves and battle with inhuman horrors, on the edge of life and death, and not break a sweat. ... But I can't face a room full of spooks."

"Yes, but you are afraid of being hurt by those you love because they have hurt you before. That is all the images showed you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can either face the fear or run from it. And you can face your family or run from them. But they are always there, inside your heart. It is not your sword arm that needs strengthening, it is your heart."

He draws his sword and lays it across his lap. "I suppose you're right. And I still dream of joining them. Lion's Heart. Shadow's Wail. Heaven's Riot. I should be wielding such a blade alongside them."

Shallan pulls out her weapons, even the elegant elven bow, and lays all down on ground in front of him. "Am I a warrior?"

"That depends. Why do you carry these things?"

“Because I do not wish to die on the road. But I wield them to protect others, no matter their birth caste. I carry no weapon as I stand here, and yet I am a warrior. Weapons do not make the warrior. If I were to lay them down, or to carry none, my heart would still call to protect those who could not protect themselves.” She quirks a crooked smile. "And it does not hurt that I get paid for it!”

He gives a smaller, similar smile. "Then I would agree with you. You are a warrior. Why is a warrior so different from a thug? It is not the steel thet he carries. One fights with a purpose, the other for the love of the deed."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, there is pleasure in a pure combat form. But if there were no more need of my skills, I would happily lay my sword down to rust."

"As would I."

"I protect those I can, and my heart feels for every soul I am unable to defend. But I know, when I lay my head down, that I could have done no more than I could."

"...I'm empty."

"So who was that old woman in town the other day?"

He gropes for the wine. "Oh, I was walking through the town and this old woman came up and asked me if I'd help her carry some things. "She had purchased more than she could manage herself. Then a woman living near her asked me to fetch a few things for her, and I spent the next hour doing odd jobs."

"Ah." She nods sagely and pokes him gently in the chest. "The seed has been planted. Now it needs only water and sunlight to grow into the mighty oak."

"... I'm not sure I follow you."

"Your honor is there. At the citadel you were presented with a trial that you were not prepared for. Your honor will overcome it, as it cannot deny your need to help even an old peasant woman with her shopping. Courage will grow, as the oak, if given time and the right nurturing."

"I see now."

"But sometimes, as the oak, you don't get to choose when water and sunlight will come your way!" She gives a genuine laugh, thoroughly amused at her analogy.

Dwight laughs along.

"Be patient. The day will come when you are ready, wether you choose to return, or find peace with a different choice."

"Well, thank you, Shallan... And now you know so much about me, yet I still know so little about you."

"There is little to tell." She shrugs slightly and smiles. "Nothing tragic, just simply inconvenient."

"Well, I should like to hear of it, but perhaps another time. I believe it is time to awaken that rather roughly-hewn woman and the other elf so that we may rest." Dwight stretches and yawns.

"I'm glad you're with us." She leans over and gives him a light kiss on his cheek, then walks over to lay out on her blanket. "And you can wake them up!”

He pointedly changes the subject quickly as he stands to wake the others for their watch, "I'm surprised that that hairy creature's snoring hasn't done it yet. What a din he raises!"

(September 2, 2005)