Kenton stood there, challenging himself to do better and do more. He was already so high up. It'd be silly to stop now.
But the ground was already so far away, and he was not yet half way done. This was more than anyone would expect of him. It was more than he had ever expected of himself.
Kenton remembered the afternoon when Elswith had returned from sealing that cursed dragon that caused all the bigwigs to be upset.
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The 'servant' Branch that servants spit at and mocked today was a hero not long ago. He had started out not impressing others much, his lack of elemental magic considered a fatal flaw by many important people. But Elswith had changed everyone's mind with time. He was younger than 20 years old, only 17 or 18 years old at that time. But he and his Circle had sealed a cursed dragon. Individual years were hard to keep track of when one gets to a certain age, Kenton believed, but he remembered that year sharp and clear. Few dismissed Elswith now.
The day that Elswith and his Circle returned, slower because the cinnamon terror had injured herself flying like a manic, there were receptions and award ceremonies for the Lordlings of the Red Circle. But everyone called Elswith a Hero specifically. He had been the one who had noticed the danger first, who had organized and led his Circle to victory against the cursed dragon bones, and ultimately the one to finish it. Kenton even heard through the grape-vine that the King himself promised the Red Circle a small reward for such an Achievement. The Fame and Favor flowed freely that day.
Kenton knew about it because he even got a chunk of Favor and Authority because he took care of the Red Circle's griffins saddles and tack and they had done well. No surprise there, his saddles where impeccable. Except for that deathtrap saddle Elswith insisted Cinnamon Girl needed for 'speed'.
So while the parties were going on, Kenton had returned to the Stable to get a little bit more work done.
So he had been surprised to find Elswith already present, putting on some ridiculously expensive ointment on the overly large cat with wings.
"The hero of the hour! Congratulations." Kenton said, his mood good at all the unexpected gains he'd made. "I heard you might even get a reward from the King."
Elswith had looked at him with haunted eyes, the good mood in the room evaporating instantly. "I'm not a hero." he said quietly.
"You saved a lot of people." Kenton replied. If other servants had been present he'd be more...respectful. But just the two of them (and the untold Watchers and Minders), was private enough.
Elswith surprised him by speaking again, not looking at Kenton anymore but focusing his gaze solely on the cinnamon brat, who was purring happily. "I was too slow, too lazy, and too complacent. I didn't realize the danger until the following day. The death toll was unimaginable."
Kenton froze. That was the uncomfortable aspect. There were many little settlements that were not directly connected to a Court. They were called rural places, and the nearby Lords were supposed to handle their defenses. There was less tax on those little areas, and more freedom. And more dangers. Especially the rural places so far away from any court, such as Dragon Scull. No fae wanted it because it was near to human settlements.
In fact, most of the deaths had been small little fae communities and a few towns that drew traded in exports from those not directly fae.
These would be deaths few noted. Nothing ventured was nothing gained, but it was also nothing lost. What did a not-quiet-as-young-as-he-used-to-be fae like him know about the Games the Lords of Fae played? No one could save everyone: People too stubborn to move into a Court from a rural place knew they risked their lives.
So after a moment of thought, he tried to comfort Elswith "People die, Lordling. The ones out there made their choices. Big fae and little fae alike all perish sometimes. The ones who stay are the least of all the fae. They're joined by outsiders and non-fae too. What Lord has time to safeguard something that gives no profit?"
"I know." Elswith said, like he was talking more to himself than Kenton "But it doesn't make it any easier, or any better." Cinnamon Girl mewled happily, and curled up closer to the Lordling. "But some of those fae cannot leave. They shouldn't suffer and die because their Lord forfeited his Court."
Then the blond Lordling looked upward, toward the warm glow of golden light spilling in from a skylight. "There should be a way to protect those places. Even if they could hold out just a single day, help could arrive."
"Bold plans."
The light of determination and resolved solidified in Elswith's gaze, as he stared off to an unseen world in his mind. "More is possible than commonly imagined. And if it is not possible, then we have not searched enough. Even if it is not enough to save everyone, it will save more."
And that was when Kenton had started thinking of Elswith as a Lord already, as that light of determination and dedication entered his eyes. He was a Lord, but the powers just hadn't caught up yet.
A Lord who would dedicate his time to protecting even the least of the fae. Even the foreigners and strangers that called the rural place home. Such a Lord may be worthy to stay out of retirement for a few years more to see what happened.
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Back in the present, Kenton stood on the 5th ledge. Resolve filling him. He wasn't great enough to ever affect the Game. But perhaps he was enough to help Elswith. Just a touch.
He would just never get involved with him again afterward. He would go his own separate way. Get the last little bit of Authority and become a midling fae and go away.
Kenton looked at the remaining ledges. Seven to go.
The Stable still said that Elswith was there, and upward.
So the not-so-young-anymore fae clenched his hands, ran, and leapt to the next platform. His chest practically crashed against the ledge, and pain rattled along his body. That hurt. But he had a good grip and wiggled his way all the way onto the platform. He was officially midway there.
He hardly felt the pain as the ledge knocked the breath from his lungs, and instead stood again, ran and leapt, and pulled himself upward. Ledge number 7, complete.
Even if the cinnamon terror had stolen the saddle at Elswith's command, Kenton believed that Elswith would never do anything to harm the lowlings.
Kenton leapt and climbed onto ledge number 8. Four more to go!
If Elswith had stolen the dragon hide saddle, then Elswith would return it with a matching pair of dragonhide gauntlets for everyone's trouble. He ran, leapt, and hit the next platform, legs dangling above a lengthy fall. He wiggled up and finished. Ledge number 9.
Kenton looked at the ledge above him, and grimaced. He had known the last three platforms were spaced further apart and increasingly higher. But it seemed much vaster up this high. He spied that there were many cluttering things lingering on the edge of the platform near the center of the room; he'd have to avoid that as he climbed. Who had left an old bucket on a ledge so high anyway? He rotated his arms, and felt the constricting of fabric of his jacket. He took it off, folded neatly, and laid it to one side. He'd come back to get it after he found Elswith.
Kenton jumped up and down a minute on the platform, allowing his body a moment to recover, but only a moment. Then he clenched his fist, ran, and leapt to the next ledge. It was his best jump so far, and he hardly had to pull himself up. 10.
"Kid, you here? Groan if you can't answer!" Kenton asked, hoping to hear a confirmation before committing to the last few jumps.
There was no answer, but Kenton could swear someone was in the room with him. And not the brat griffin that caused so much trouble. It felt like Elswith.
No answer, but Kenton was already up so high! He purposefully did not look, but ran and jumped and climbed onto ledge number 11.
Kenton saw the last ledge, higher than the rest. He could not see the back side of the ledge. If Elswith was hiding there, Kenton would have to commit to the jump and pull himself up. He could do that. He had done a pull-up just the other day...
His shoulders had popped and crunched uncomfortably, but he had done it and won a sizable bet too.
The Stable said that Elswith was near.
Perhaps Elswith needed him. Kenton was not Elswith's ally. He was not worthy to hold such a position.
But Kenton could help this one time. For his own selfish reasons. Because selfishly, he wanted Elswith to do well. He wanted to live in a world where the Red Lord cared for the outer territories. So Kenton could do it, he could make that jump. He could do it. He was strong still. Still young. His knees hurt and his hands got tingles when it rained, but he wasn't old yet. He still had the best part of his life ahead of him.
So he ran and jumped, not looking down. His hands grabbed the ledge, though it smarted something awful. He pulled up and felt youthful vigor fill him as he did so, though had he seen himself he would know his face was red and splotchy.
Then he got his chest up and over the ledge, and then the left leg over the ledge, then the right leg over. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, staring at the curved doom of a ceiling that was nearer to him than he had ever seen before.
He had done it! He climbed all the way up! The Stable seemed proud of him too!
He sat up, fully expecting to see the young fae in one form or another lying nearby.
But there was no Elswith.
The Stable said that Elswith was right there.
But there was no Elswith.
Confusion and disgruntlement filled Kenton, exhaustion seemed to drip from his every pore. Frustration welled in Kenton's chest, as he thought of the myriad of problems that fell into his lap.
People got lost in the Stable, and sometimes had...bad fates...but those were people who broke the rules and hurt the Stable.
Elswith had never been anything but pleasant and fair to the Stable.
Had the Stable actually stolen Elswith?
No, that wasn't supposed to happen.
The last time was a fluke.
Kenton slumped back down, turbulent thoughts filling him.
Kenton was the last person to be with Elswith. The other workers in his department would turn on him too because Kenton was the one who was entrusted with the dragon hide saddle, who claimed that it was stolen by a griffin. The other workers who had seen would not be enough to prove his innocence. They'd say he designed a trap for Elswith. And now a proper Big G fancy Game was ruined.
Kenton would lose all the Authority he had gathered over 137 years. All gone.
Would Sarah-Beth, his love who waited for him in his little home village, blame him that he may have just wasted the century and a half it had taken him to reach the cusps of Midling Fae? The thought of her disappointed face drove him to fury, and he flailed his arms.
His flailing, unfortunately, tossed over an old bucket abandoned on the ledge.
"No no no no," he said, lurching in vain to grab it.
Instead, he got to see from his high vantage point as the bucket fell and hit every platform on the way down, clattering and clanging with each impact loud enough to make him cover his ears.
At the last perch, it rolled and nearly fell off safely to some old haybales. But the impact instead had been enough to chip off the edge of that ledge, and the bucket and the bit of edge collapsed against a multitude of other tools and honest-to-goodness bells tucked away here for storage. Why were there bells here?
The noise was so loud that Kenton could feel it all the way up here.
The sound was huge and Kenton had to cover his ears.
Please don't have the Stablemaster return and berate him for disturbing the peace. What if the Stable had connected to the banshee sanctum and he had awoken them? It'd be weeks before the stablehands got them all back to sleep!
But silence returned, and no wails or shrieks began.
He had done it, somehow. He slumped against a wall, considering how to proceed. Maybe he would just stay up here.
When a noise came.
Kenton felt the pressure of a blast but did not see the light. Ears ringing, he wondered if his fortune was truly bad after all. It had been a loud and sharp bang and the smell of nectar. It was all the tell-tell signs of a fire flower being activated by an expert wizard, except there was no flash.
It didn't come from the hallway or another room. It had come from this room. But that was impossible. Because he should have seen the flash.
It came from the space it seemed Elswith was.
"Elswith?" He asked the empty room.