Cadmun’s gaze pierced into Stick’s soul. His eyes had a raging fire in them that Stick had never seen before.

“What will you do if the Baron orders you to carry out a punishment? Will you pummel a slave with a mace on the head? Will you tie a miner to a horse and drag them on the ground across the Manor? Will you hang up one of your former friends and leave them to nearly die of hunger in the Slaughterhouse?”

“No, I-”

Cadmun furiously waved his hands around.

“As a Carnifex, you don’t say ‘no’. You follow orders. As a Carnifex soldier, you don’t say ‘please’. You dictate to the slaves around. As a Carnifex soldier, you don’t say ‘sorry’. You take the trash out. There are no discussions with your superior. No ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’. There are no doubts about an order.”

“But-”

“There are no ‘buts’, no ‘maybes’ or ‘howevers’. If someone above you wants you to cut off the tongue of a boy and kill his parents because he whines too much, then you do exactly that. Can you do that, Recruit?” The vein running through Cadmun’s scar on his neck started to bulge. “Not physically speaking of course, your sword is sharp enough. Not legally speaking: That boy’s family are not Adventurers after all. I mean, can you do that and live with yourself afterwards?”

Stick had never seen Cadmun explode like that before. He started to shake as his nose started to run.

“No, I…”

But he couldn’t finish the sentence without tears welling up in his eyes. Seeing this, Cadmun took a deep breath.

“There’s no way you can predict what these assholes are scheming,” Cadmun said. “But whatever it is, you don’t want to be a part of that.”

“I-, I just-”

Stick tried to hold back any more tears, but when Cadmun hugged him, he couldn’t hold back crying anymore.

“I just wanted to help,” he sobbed.

“I know,” Cadmun said, as he held the boy in his arms.

image [https://i.imgur.com/oljmHIt.jpeg]

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

That’s what he was. Just a boy. No amount of muscles or plans or birthdays changed that.

“You’ve already helped more than you can imagine.” Cadmun released the hug and stared him right in the eyes, although this time his gaze was benevolent. “You gave us the faith to act instead of wait.”

Stick had calmed down, but his nose was still runny. “But everyone involved will be worse off, even if we succeed.”

“It was their own decision to become a part of this and help the Lords. They’re acting of their own volition, so they’re aware of the consequences.”

“But it was my plan that made them act!”

“You’re not responsible for everyone’s fate, you know?” Cadmun exhaled. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. In fact, it doesn’t even know that you exist.”

Stick took issue with that statement, but didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re not the Greatest Hero yet,” Cadmun said softly. “And that’s a good thing. Enjoy it!”

A smile formed on Stick’s face. “Thank you.”

Cadmun smiled back. “Now, how about we-”

“Get ready!” someone yelled.

They were interrupted by a group of men led by Titor rushing by them in a panic, shuffling around and yelling incoherently. What’s with that commotion?

Cadmun stopped one of the slaves, it was Smith, and asked him what was going on.

“They’re coming,” he said.

“What? Who?” Cadmun asked.

“Reacher and Becket,” Smith answered.

“But it’s not even lunchtime yet!” Stick exclaimed.

Smith turned to Stick. “Michael spotted them riding down the hill. They’re in a hurry.”

“Do you think they’re suspecting anything?” Cadmun asked.

“I don’t know. But we hid everything as well as we could. Titor went ahead to warn the Lords and the others are preparing the fireplace to not look suspicious.” Smith turned to Cadmun. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Cadmun answered.

Smith nodded and rushed to the campsite. Cadmun turned to Stick and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

Stick wiped his tears.

“Yes.” Then he remembered: “But Cadmun, what about the bait? We can’t move the defences if the wolves are scattered outside. We need to clear one of the entrances.”

“Smith, damn it.” Cadmun clicked his tongue. “Hold onto them for now. If they spot us with that much meat, they’ll know that something’s up. Be sure to give it to Titor, as soon as we get a hold of that horse.”

“Understood.”

He could soon hear the rushed clapping of hooves slowly getting louder and louder until they overshadowed the noises in the busy slave camp. The horses stopped right in front of the fireplace and Becket and Reacher frantically looked around.

“Where is it?” Reacher yelled.

Stick balled a fist. Did they notice the missing tent?

Reacher ground his teeth. “Where is that little shit?”

Then, Becket’s eyes focused on Stick. “There you are!”

What?

“You’re looking for me?” Stick asked.

Both the knights brought their horses closer.

“Stick Arslan,” Becket began. “You need to come with us.”

What’s the meaning of this?

Stick tried to remain cool, to not raise any suspicion. “Where are we going?”

“We’ll explain on the way,” the Mace said.

“Why?” Stick protested. “I thought today was a holiday.”

“You little-” Reacher said, but he bit his tongue to stop himself from finishing that sentence.

Becket took over the formalities once again. “You are hereby ordered to come to the Baron for your official Initiation.”