By the time Caj’s first week with Bietre was over, he never wanted to see the gates of the Noblis Family estate again. Conversely, Marci was having a great time, apparently having hit it off quite well with Natalia. Caj had yet to speak to the young woman, but she seemed nice enough from what Marci said. Caj had also noticed the presence of Natalia’s slightly older brother towards the beginning of the week, although he had only stayed for a few days before leaving to travel south again. He had not seen much of Maxim, more fleeting glances than anything else. From Caj could see, he deduced that Maxim was a completely different beast to his father. While Bietre was boisterous and outgoing, Maxim was quiet and reserved. Where Bietre’s fighting style relied heavily on power and speed, his son would specialize in agility and accuracy, if his weapons of choice were anything to go by. Caj wouldn’t have known that at the beginning of the week, but one of the additions to his schedule was the discussion of different types of weapons with both Narm and Bietre on a daily basis.
Typically, Bietre would chase him around the courtyard for an hour, discuss weapon identification and techniques for an hour, and then actually go over techniques with the longsword with him. Before he left the estate, Bietre would tell Caj what he needed to work on. Afternoons were spent at the boneyard, supervising Junior undertakers. His sessions with Bietre meant that he could only work part time as a senior undertaker, but that was alright in his book, as teaching people how to dig could get quite tiring after a while. He had a couple of occasions where a new junior undertaker would try and challenge his authority based on his age. Typically, the challenges were verbal, and easily curbed by a sharp tongue and demonstration of his knowledge. It had only gone beyond that once, when a sailor who was digging as temp job decided to take a swing at him. After Caj put the man firmly on his arse three times, the sailor gave up. No one tried anything like that again.
In the evenings Caj would spend his time with Narm discussing what he had learned that day, and what needed to be improved upon. Bietre had given Caj a series of basic forms to practice with both his short sword and longsword, and Narm would watch him preform them in the evenings and tell him where he could improve. Narm had recently retired from his position as head undertaker, as it was getting too difficult for him to get around in the expansive area that was the boneyard. Some burial places in the bone yard were so for away from the main office that it would take an overnight trip to inspect, and Narm didn’t have the energy for some of those excursions.
It was on a pretty standard afternoon a week after Caj had started lessons with Bietre that Narm came out to check on him while was working. Caj was currently covered in dirt and grime, as he was showing a handful of the newer Junior undertakers the method for putting in a tombstone. It amazed him to think that something so seemingly simple could be so difficult to explain. For some members of this group, it was the third time he had to explain it. He was very frustrated with one of the more divisive members of the group.
“Jason,” he asked, deceptively mild, “Are you a stonemason?” Jason, a portly, somewhat lazy young man who had already had this lesson three times before looked up dumbly.
“What?” he asked confusedly, “No! of course not. If I was a bloody stonemason I wouldn’t be in this dump.” Caj nodded thoughtfully, unaware that Narm was watching from not to far away.
“So, Jason,” Caj said, voice still calm, “If you are a junior undertaker, who is only responsible for retrieving and putting in simple stones, THEN WHY IN THE NAME OF THE REAPERS CHAFF DOES IT MATTER HOW THE MASONS CARVE THEIR SIGNATURE?” Caj’s bellow wasn’t near the volume that Narm could manage, but it was still very respectable, and enough to set Jason back on his heels.
Caj was tired of Jason. The man was like an insidious poison eating away at Caj’s group with whispered rumors of Caj’s youth and inexperience. Jason was too cowardly to say such things to Caj’s face, knowing that Caj could easily shoot down his criticisms. Jason, however, had learned the lesson that a knife in the dark was sometimes more effective that a battleax in broad daylight. Caj knew most of the men discounted Jason’s words, but the handful that listened were enough to cause him trouble. Caj had enough of that, and already had permission to boot the man at his next major infraction. As it was, he just wanted the man to shut up.
Caj turned back to the group and saw Narm watching with raised brows. Caj sighed and winced slightly. He could’ve handled that better. With some disgust, he turned towards Jason.
“My sincere apologies Journeyman.” He said, somewhat forcefully. “My conduct toward you was uncalled for given the situation. I would ask that stop asking pointless questions in an attempt to aggravate me; I am not a patient man.” Caj’s words seemed to have little effect, and he groaned internally, bemoaning the situation that was surely to plague him over the next days. He had no doubt that Jason’s rumors would be more poisonous than ever. He moved one pushing it to the back of his mind, and continuing the lesson. After the stone was installed, he let the Journeymen go for the day, and approached Narm. Narm didn’t give him their traditional greetings, instead leaning forward on his cane.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“You need to learn to control that temper of yours, Caj.” He said pointedly, “You are liable to hurt someone otherwise.” Caj only nodded once in reply. He knew Narm was right, and that his temper was ill-becoming of someone in authority, but he was finding it harder to keep. Caj was exhausted, mentally and physically from the past week’s exertions, and his patience was worn thin and frayed at the edges. Narm held out a long bundle to him.
“Your swords came in today, and Bietre says he wants you wearing them at all times.” Caj groaned aloud.
“What? Why?” He asked, to tired to care that he sounded like a whiny brat. Narm chose to ignore the tone.
“Because you need a level of familiarity with the weapons and how they feel.” Narm replied tersely, “You need to instinctively know how far away they are from your hands and how to move with them on. Bietre and I expect no less.” Caj cursed Bietre and Narm bitterly for their chafing requirements, but he knew that they were right. He sighed heavily as Narm cuffed him gently. “Now, go inside and get some sleep, you look like the dead.” Caj happily obliged, making his way into the main building and to his hammock. He passed the Murphy’s on the way, but he was too tired to notice.
The weeks passed and turned to months, which turned into a year, and Caj began to acclimate to his schedule, and learn what lessons he was taught. Caj also began to think on his future. He decided that he did not want to be a gravedigger for the rest of his life, but really didn’t know what else to do. He knew enough about weapons to make a passable soldier he supposed, but he had also grown-up using court etiquette in his private life, and didn’t know how suited it would be in the rough and tumble world of an Army barracks. He considered briefly joining on one of the trading vessels at port, but ultimately vetoed that idea as well. Caj knew that any decision of that nature was several years down the road for him, and he dreaded to think of the event that he knew would be the impetus. Narm was dying.
Narm wasn’t about to drop dead by any means, but his health was definitely taking turns for the worse, and everyone knew that he only had a handful of years left. If that. It pained Caj to think of it, but he also knew that death was a part of life. Narm seemed to be in good spirits about it, and had privately mentioned to Caj that dying comfortably in bed was the best an old warrior could hope for. He still got up and around to watch Caj’s forms, and would occasionally go with him to Bietre’s manse to watch them spar. Bietre had long since taken over all facets of Caj’s martial training, rather than the original plan of just teaching him he sword.
Caj had learned much from Bietre. While the middle-aged sword master couldn’t match Narm for precision and skill in some areas of combat, he still had much to teach. The man seemed to have an endless supply of lessons, a fact which Caj found amusing and infuriating all at once, as he couldn’t tell if they were pre-planned or simply come up with on the spot. Caj couldn’t remember all the lessons word for word, but a healthy dose of bruises and scrapes ensured he remembered their spirit.
Caj’s duties as an undertaker remained the same, and he still received most of the ‘raw recruits’ as Narm called them. He would teach them to proficiency and then send them off to other, older undertakers. It was relatively easy work, if rather boring when compared with his morning sessions. In fact, he found himself less and less enamored with the career as a senior undertaker every day. He wanted to plan for his future, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what to do about it. When he asked Narm about it, the old man had an interesting answer.
“Ask Bietre if he will take you on as a squire.” Narm said succinctly, as though he hadn’t just suggested Caj be essentially adopted into one of the most powerful families in Goldstern. Caj looked at him blankly. Narm looked back somewhat warily. “What?” he asked.
“It’s just that simple, is it?” Caj asked disbelievingly.
Like a Lord would take a gravedigger as a squire. He thought to himself, it doesn’t matter how highborn you are if you spend your life covered in mud.
“Yes…” Narm responded, nonplussed. Caj snorted.
“Oh aye, Narm,” he drawled, “let me just walk up to the most powerful military figure on this side of the country and ask to be his squire. Its practically sure as sure that he will take me on.” Narm cocked an eyebrow at Caj.
“You’re a cheeky bastard you know that?”
“Only to you.”
Narm snorted laughter at Caj’s response.
“I’ll allow it.” He replied, “And yes, it is just that simple.” Narm decided to expound, seeing Caj’s confusion. “Look, Caj. He has already been training you for over a year, so you basically already are his squire. Plus, he likes you.”
“He does not.” Caj denied, although if he was being honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t true.
“Yes, he does, Caj. I’ve never seen him sink so much of his time willingly into the training of anyone, and I used to know him quite well.” Caj thought about it for a bit in silence.
I suppose Narm has a point. He mused, Bietre is too selfish to help anyone he isn’t particularly fond of. Narm grinned almost as though he could read Caj’s thoughts.
“Don’t decide right now, take a week to sleep on it.” Caj nodded once, deciding to consider Narms words and advice. The support of a powerful house would make his life easier, and probably give him access to the lifestyle he wanted.