The furnishings in Horatio’s home were simple and sparse. It wasn’t the first time the boys had come inside, but they saw their surroundings in a new light now that they knew that Horatio was a lord, and an important one from the sounds of it. They had many questions, but even Eric knew that he would have to step delicately, especially in the presence of the prince, who seemed to fawn over the older man’s every word. Huntsman had already left, ostensibly to keep an eye out for the Sons of Archava.

“I’ll go inspect our surroundings,” the prince announced after a brief discussion with Horatio. “I’ll leave the Lady Emily in your care.”

“So, you’re a lord,” Eric began once Arthur had closed the door behind him.

Horatio looked at the boy with his deep brown eyes and gave a wan smile. “King Storian saw it fit to grant me that honour.”

“Then why live like this?” Tim asked as he waved a hand around at the shed.

“I am a man of modest needs,” Horatio allowed.

“Lord Carver, shouldn’t you be focused on preparing our defences?” Emily asked. She was standing at the window, staring out at the woods across the field.

Horatio smiled at the young lady and gestured at the boys. “I fear these two will be distracted by their curiosity if I don’t satiate it a little.”

Eric gave the princess a deadpan look. “He’s right you know.”

Emily sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t see how you can be so calm when you know what’s coming.”

“I have full faith in you and your husband’s ability to keep me safe,” Horatio smiled.

“So, were you born a lord?” Eric ventured.

“No,” Horatio crinkled his eyes mischievously. “In fact, I was born a peasant in Enris.”

That took Tim by surprise. Horatio had a strange accent, and Thacker was an unusual name, but Carthus was a big kingdom, and Potter’s Hollow a small town. He could count on one hand the number of people he’d met who didn’t live within twenty miles of a town if he didn’t include the Frisky Goat’s more well-travelled clientele.

“Isn’t Enris that land across the Frigid Sea?” Eric gasped. “What are you doing all the way here?”

Horatio stroked his beard thoughtfully as he sat on his bed. “Enris was and still is racked by wars, so it must have been… Oh, it must have been almost ten years ago now when Nathan, he’s Enrisian too, you see, convinced me to come with him to the peaceful kingdom of Carthus.”

The older man paused and smiled wryly. “Yes, as hardened veterans from Enris’ many wars, we would be highly sought after by Carthun lords. We’d be paid handsomely to do nothing at all, were his exact words. Little did we know, eh?”

“And how did you gain your lordship?” Eric ventured.

Horatio’s face darkened. “I merely did my duty.”

“When Hulva attacked us, there was a point where it seemed all was lost. Their surprise was complete, and they were within a hairsbreadth of Aroden,” Tim was surprised to hear Emily speak so passionately. “Lord Carver was the man who held the line, fighting the Hulvan advance to a standstill while the kingdom found its feet.”

“Oh, my achievements in that battle are far overblown,” Horatio said modestly.

He paused before slapping his knees and getting to his feet. “Now then boys, if that will be all, we have preparations to make.”

Tim and Eric exchanged looks. All they had heard was that the Hulvans had attacked first and that their invasion had been driven back. Why they attacked or just how close the Hulvans had come to the gates of the Carthun capital had not reached their far flung town.

“Boys.” Tim blinked and saw Horatio staring at them. “Fetch your practice shields from the barn.”

“You’ve been training them, Lord Carver?” Emily ventured.

“I feared a second mustering would be necessary,” Horatio admitted. “So I thought it best to prepare the boys of the town that had so kindly taken me in.”

“What are you doing here if you’re so important, anyway?” Eric blurted.

Horatio smiled. “I was a foreign lowborn elevated to lordship. My rise ruffled more than a few feathers. I made a mistake, and here I am.”

“You didn’t make any mistake,” Emily insisted. “The debacle at the gates of Estos has vindicated you.”

“Forgive me if I take no joy in the deaths of Carthun soldiers.” There was a tinge of sadness in Horatio’s eyes as he looked out the window. He then turned back to the boys, who were still standing by the door. “Do you need something?

“What are we going to do with barrel lids?” Eric protested. “Don’t you have any weapons?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Those barrel lids will offer some measure of protection,” Horatio replied. “Go, I fear there isn’t much time.”

Once they were out of the shed, Eric nudged Tim on the shoulder. “Now we’ll see if the playfighting had a point to it, eh?”

Tim shrugged, trying to look nonchalant when it was all he could do to stop himself from panicking. They were four against around thirty. Tim didn’t know much about real fighting, but he knew that the odds were firmly against them. He looked over at Eric who seemed to be looking forward to the upcoming fight.

“Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss,” Tim muttered as they made their way towards the barn on the other side of the field.

A look around his surroundings showed a typical late summer morning in the town he had spent his entire life in, but somehow, it felt as though everything had changed. He looked to the forest on the edge of one of the fields and imagined them swarming with the Sons of Archava. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Eric looking at him blankly.

“I said, it feels like only last week when we were last here, eh?” Eric repeated.

Tim blinked. “But we were here yesterday.”

“I meant to practice,” Eric snapped. A sly smile crossed his face. “And Gordon Fisher said we were wasting our time with Old Horatio. Well, we’ll show them, won’t we Tim?”

Tim’s stomach turned and he managed a weak smile as Eric pushed the door of the barn open. “Perhaps we should round the lads up?” Tim offered.

Eric snorted derisively as he walked over to a barrel and pulled a pair of wooden swords that Horatio had carved for them out of oak branches. “Why? We’ll be the envy of the town when they hear we’ve driven off thirty men.”

“Where’s that confidence coming from?” Tim asked incredulously as he picked a pair of crude wooden bucklers that were little more than barrel lids with string threaded through a pair of punched holes. “The Miller boys gave us a proper thrashing just last week.”

It was Eric who had insisted that they run to the aid of Francis Butcher, who had been caught by the Miller brothers. Eric had led the charge with his fists swinging, and it had taken the intervention of the Millers’ father and three uncles to break the fight up. Only once the fighting was over did they learn that Francis had started the whole altercation by filling Nicholas Miller’s shoes with pig shit as a prank.

Eric frowned thoughtfully. “Well, they were adults…” he began.

“So you think the Sons of Archava are all children, then?” Tim snorted.

“We’ll have our swords,” Eric said, raising his pointedly.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Listen, I think we should lay low and leave the fighting to those who know what they’re doing.”

“You can be a coward if you like, Tim,” Eric said as he tossed Tim a wooden sword. “But I’m not going to miss the opportunity to impress the prince and Lord Carver.”

“He’s known you for almost a year now,” Tim pointed out as he handed Eric one of the bucklers. “You’re not going to fool him.”

“Yes, everyone will stand slack jawed in awe at my prowess, there will be no denying that,” Eric huffed said with a sloppy grin on his face. Tim shook his head. It was clear his friend was off in his own world where he imagined himself single handedly driving off the entire Hulvan army.

“I’m just telling you not to be reckless,” Tim warned as he hurried after his friend. Eric had always been an impulsive one, eager to prove himself. Tim’s mother often said that it was because he was the middle child out of nine, and it was what he had to do to get his parents’ attention. Now Tim was afraid that it would get his friend killed and grabbed him by the arm.

“If we have to fight, just remember what Old Horatio taught us,” Tim pleaded. “Remember how many times you’ve died during our mock fights.”

“But in real life, I want die from getting nicked by lucky hits,” Eric grunted irritably. Tim looked at him pointedly and the taller boy relented. “Fine, just don’t get in my way.”

He pulled himself free, and Tim shook his head as the pair re-entered the shed. “I didn’t know if we should bring anything for Huntsman,” Tim remarked, as the thought suddenly occurred to him. “Or if Prince Arthur needs a shield.”

“That will be a no on both counts,” Horatio said with a wry smile. Tim was surprised to see that the older man now wore a real longsword at his hip and wondered where he’d hidden it in the sparse shed that Eric had inspected thoroughly many times to find clues to old Horatio’s past.

“Someone is signalling from the woods,” Emily announced. “I see three flashes of light.”

Horatio nodded and his face turned serious. “They’re on their way. Go fetch your husband, we need to prepare to defend ourselves.”

Once Emily left, he walked over to a large chest he had never seen before that was now on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tim and Eric watched in silent anticipation as Horatio bent over and retrieved a pair of short swords in leather scabbards. He looked over to the boys and locked eyes with Eric. “Before I give you this, I want you to promise me that you’ll use your head and not charge in impulsively like you always do.”

Eric nodded enthusiastically without taking his eyes off the sword.

“You have talent with the sword, Eric,” Horatio said as he handed the weapon over. “Just be mindful of your surroundings and stay close to your friends.”

Eric took the sword and held it reverently. Horatio then turned to Tim and held the second sword out. Tim felt his heart begin to race as he stared at the simple wooden hilt. Would he have to swing it in anger? Could he?

“Steel your resolve, Master Weaver,” Horatio said solemnly. “I fear we will soon have to kill or be killed. If you waver, we could all be killed.”

Tim swallowed and reached out for the sword.

“You have a good head on your shoulders, Tim,” Horatio continued. “Watch your friend’s back, protect him. When you work together, there will be nothing the two of you can’t accomplish.”

Tim swallowed as he took the sword from Horatio and look down at the sword. He drew it partway out of its scabbard and examined the blade. It was rusted and pitted in places, but he didn’t care. To him, it was the finest sword in the entire world.

“When’s your friend coming back?” Arthur asked as he strode into the room. “And can he handle a bow?”

“I’m afraid he’s not coming back,” Horatio laughed mirthlessly. “At least not until the fighting is over.”

“What?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“He will tell you that he’s a scout, not a fighter,” Horatio shrugged.

“We don’t have time to worry about him,” Emily said sharply. “Look, here they come.”

Tim looked out the window and a group of men dressed in simple brown robes marching down the road leading out of town towards the shed. Many were armed with everyday implements like knives, bows, hatchets, and scythes, but the five at their head wore swords in their belts.

“That’s a motley bunch,” Arthur grunted as he reached for his sword.

“Wait,” Horatio said. “We need a plan.”

Arthur turned and cocked an eyebrow. “Against that rabble? I won’t need two minutes to deal with them.”

“I can send them running in the blink of an eye if you’d like,” Emily offered.

“Didn’t your friend say there were thirty of them?” Tim ventured. “I only count twenty out there.”

“That’s why we need a plan,” Horatio sighed.