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Chapter 19
A cough wrenched Hubert’s chest. He had brought his sleeve to his lips. His image seemed to carry a sickly look wherever he went, even when he was mostly fine. Now, he understood his family’s ridiculous reactions when they had discovered his affinity for the Echo. ‘The first Thornewell to become an Attendant.’, that’s what they kept repeating on the night of his departure. The irony being that they never really considered him to be family.
He was quite aware that he was the black sheep of the household. His uncle, Lord Harken Thornewell, had made that painfully clear from the start. But, when Hubert surprised the entire town of Ystere (and himself) with his successful assessment, praises were suddenly sung. ‘I always knew you were going to bring greatness to this family.’, his uncle’s words sang in his head. Never once had he heard any hint of respect from him. And now that he had, there was no choice but to push ahead. - Too bad the pressure was starting to fall heavy on his shoulders. Even his horse began to slow.
“Don’t go passing out on me again, Hubert.”
A dark steed walked on Hubert’s right side and carried on it, a friendly face. It was one that he never imagined to have as an ally. But, their long journey from Ystere had found them well acquainted. Hubert knew him as Soren Graye, one of three Attendant Knights that proctored the testing grounds of Ystere. Typically, it would have been his cloak of gold and white that distinguished him. However, he lacked one now, and that just made him stand out all the more. Still, it was curious. The only explanation Hubert ever got on the subject was that it ‘got damaged’ and was ‘being repaired in the Citadel’.
“I won’t.”, Hubert replied. “I-I think.”
“Thinking about your uncle again?”
“No, no. I got this. If I can’t, how will I ever expect to lead my house?”
“It’s good that you’re looking to the future.”, Soren explained. “But why don’t we just focus on what’s ahead of us for now?”
With a small nod, Soren turned his ashen gaze toward the capital’s towering, southern gate. He looked on through a short veil of silver hair; the mane by which he was so often recognized. - Hubert had grown used to that. In fact, it was almost a blessing in disguise. He hoped that, with some luck, Soren would draw most of the attention away from him once they had passed the gate. Then, he could simply hide away behind his shadow. Or, any shadow for that matter.
When the host of riders came upon Gracewind’s storied walls, a great tremor emanated. The ground shook as the gate’s locks were unwound. Soren rode ahead as their guide. Though, not before taking a partial look back at the retinue of candidates. He spoke none, but reassured their respective confidences with a simple nod. The gate opened at once and both doors cracked a brilliant line of light that led right into the exuberance prepared for them all. A wall of cheer welcomed them that very instant. Hubert took a staggered breath and rode forth, just behind Soren.
This year, Ystere had given Ardyn a batch of twenty promising candidates. They all came through the gate like returning heroes, triumphant and joyous. No matter where they looked, the streets waved at them. Smiles were all around, just as the flowers that soon fell upon them like gentle rain. Handfuls of sword bell petals were tossed at their feet and above their heads. They filled the air with a timely aroma, one that matched the jubilance of the hour.
“This..”, Hubert muttered aloud, partially enthralled as he took in the sight. “..this is amazing.”
“It always was.”, Soren called back. “You never really get used to it. - Give the people a smile. They’re cheering for you too!”
Of course, Hubert listened. He had no reason to refuse. His nerves had gone and were replaced not long after with an episode of elation. This is what it felt like to be praised? This is what it felt like to be valued. It was nearly enough to make his eyes water, which they did as soon as a pair of children poked out from the crowd. They wore Attendant cloaks, replicas that they surely made on their own. In their hands were wooden swords. And, they waved them together with bright smiles and great appreciation.
“Good luck!”, they shouted whilst waving at Hubert.
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All at once, Hubert’s anxieties returned that very instant. The street spun around, as if his mind moved like a wheel independent of his head. He was never good under pressure. Who knew that two little kids could be so demanding? Soren certainly did not.
“H-hey, Hubert? You okay!?”
°°
When laughter erupted in the middle of the common room, Hubert pressed his face into his hands. It was at his expense after all. What else could he expect after such an embarrassing display? To think that he fell off of his horse in the middle of Gracewind, in front of an unending crowd. He wanted nothing more than to forget the ordeal, but those around him were far from allowing that. All twenty of Ystere’s candidates hung about the room for the last hour. Half bided their time on couches and tables whilst the other half loitered around Hubert with taunting grins.
They rode a large swath through the city until they had come to the Citadel, headquarters of the Attendant Knights. Frankly, Hubert had remembered very little of it, if any at all. Too much of his time had been spent looking at the ground, red-faced and defeated by his own mishap. Before he knew it, they had all been herded into this very common room and all the magnificence of the keep had gone past him without so much as a look. And, with this being the first time he had ever set foot in the capital, regret sat firmly in his gut.
As a consolation, the common room they were asked to wait in was still an honest reflection of the stronghold’s grandeur. Dark, seasoned wood made up most of the furniture around. Great rugs lined stone floors and dense pillars filled the space where pathways did not. They were in an arrangement akin to the estate of a wealthy nobleman. Only, the entirety of the place exuded a far more disciplined quality. They may have been in Gracewind, but the Citadel found no trouble in adding more gravity to their situation.
“Hey Hubert, don’t you think you should learn how to ride a horse before trying to become an Attendant?”
Across the way and on another armchair sat a man that embodied most of what Hubert did not. A purposed leer curled a lasting wrinkle across his cheek. He had the build of a woodsman and a posture that hardly knew doubt. One leg crossed wide atop the other. He was young and he was strong. There were no other words that could be more straightforward in describing Gilford Laz, the man who cleaved a blood orc in twain with naught but an axe. It was a rumor that spread through Ystere and garnered much attention. And, it was one that Hubert had no intention of verifying.
“Yeah, what did they teach you in that fancy estate of yours?”
“I would’ve dropped out immediately. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole city was talking about you right now.”
A few others followed on Gilford’s sneer and combed their egos with unified laughter. - Hubert groaned aloud and sunk further into his palms. This was not what he had in mind when he set out to make a name for himself and his house.
“Don’t worry. When I become an Attendant, I’ll teach you all there is to know about being a proper hero, with proper respect.”, Gilford added. “You may be a noble, but you’re still from the boonies, just like the rest of us. No one here takes your family seriously.”
Anger was not a common visitor of Hubert. It was unwieldy and always made a mess of things. However, it struck him like lightning when Gilford’s smug chuckle floated across the center table. His spine tensed and his arms flared. Yet, they stayed put. His face remained buried in his hands. Every part of his being imagined Gilford at his feet, unconscious. To punch him then and there would have been nothing short of perfect.
The laughter seemed to rise like a looming wall of derision. Hubert balled a hand tight. The need to lash out came dangerously close. He only needed one more second of certainty. But, it never came. Gilford was far bigger and far more imposing. There was nothing about him that showed weakness. It was folly for Hubert to think there was anything he could do to him. So, he gave in and retreated back into his palms.
The noise was then cut short when the door opened. Silence besat every voice. The candidates stood with renewed stances, as if they had not been lounging for the last hour at all. Even Gilford found the need to straighten out. Hubert lifted from his seat last. Through the door came Soren; no longer on him were the clothes of the road. Instead, the full regimentals of an Attendant streamed down his build. A perfect fit of white and gold. Only, his cloak had yet to return.
“Alright..”, he spoke with a clear tone. “..your lodgings have been prepared in the southern wing. I suggest that you take the remainder of the day to recuperate what energy you lost on the road. - Consider the Citadel your home for the duration of the trials. You may walk it freely unless told otherwise.”
Despite their tense posture, many were elated at the news. There was nothing quite like sleeping on a fresh bed, especially after spending so long in travel.
“You’ll be given further instruction tomorrow at dawn, at the beginning of the trials. - Prepare yourselves well and don’t get distracted. You’ll need all the resolve you can muster.”
“Soren.”, Gilfored interrupted, albeit with a raised hand. “We passed the yard on the way here. The sparring field, may we use it?”
“You may.”
“Then, I’d like to request a duel. - I don’t see a better way to prepare for the trials than to exchange blades with you.”
The rest of the candidates collectively froze as if their breathing had paused. They had expected a trying week, but it seemed Gilford had much more in mind. He wished not only to compete with his peers, but with the Order itself. Leave it to the orc slayer to challenge an Attendant. With a simple request, he raised the standards so that all could feel the duress. - Soren may have perked a brow, but there was no fooling him. There was always vigilance amidst his gaze, and it saw right through Gilford’s intent.
The candidates from the other three towns had arrived before them and were practicing among themselves in the yard. If they were to duel then and there, all eyes would soon follow. It seemed that Gilford hoped to raise his stock in front of his competition. And, if other Attendants happened to be present to witness, it was all the better.
“What do you say?”, Gilford asked. “It would be an honor to learn from you.”
“I don’t think spending yourself like that would be a good use of your day.”, Soren answered. “Anyway. Now that you’re here safely, my role as your guide is over. I wish you all the best of luck.”
The candidates nodded in unison and laxed only when Soren made his exit. They had been given a short bit of freedom which sat differently on each person. Hubert was left moderately confused. He could not decide whether it was best to find a meal or to retire to his lodgings. The first test was soon to come and it was paramount that he did as much as he could to ensure that his body could handle whatever came its way. Especially now that the weight of his predicament was growing clear. He was a weakling lost in a throng of strength. - So, as he stood there, his eyes swam with uncertainty at the few who left through the door and those that remained.
“Tcht..”, Gilford gritted his teeth. “What a coward. What kind of Attendant backs down like that? - Whatever. C’mon, let’s go see what the competition looks like.”
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