Judd made sure his sheath was securely strapped to his belt and felt a tingle of pleasure as his fingers grasped the hilt of his sword.

His sword.

Not a fishing net.

Not an anchor or the sheets of a boat.

Not even the handle of a knife used to descale endless catches of fish.

He let his fingers run over the grooves.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t new or custom made for himself.

That sort of luxury and prestige would only come after he had distinguished himself. Yet he had already begun to imagine a blade of such craftsmanship that he only needed to draw it and the monsters would run in terror as its reputation went far ahead of itself, as well as the one who wielded it.

Judd heard a huffing noise and looked up at his travelling companion. He was a redheaded young man with a pinched expression that came from constant reading…or perhaps disdain for his appointed task. Judd didn’t know much about the learned men from the illustrious halls of the Order of the Grail yet this cleric that had been assigned to him seemed to embody all the stereotypes that tradesmen imagined of a ‘bookworm’.

He wore the robes of a typical cleric, cream calico with sleeves down to his wrists and the hem was too long for his unimpressive height which meant he was prone to tripping up. His boots were also a little big which wasn’t as obvious but he had complained numerous times about them since leaving Astaril. His slight frame was in danger of being swamped not only by his robes but also by a cappa clausa, a hooded cape in dark red. Peeking out from beneath the hood, gleaming dully in burnished copper, was a four pointed, somewhat lopsided, star inside a circle which had come to not only represent the affluent city of Astaril but also the Order of the Grail.

He puffed and gasped for air. Judd might have thought him obese beneath the folds of his clothes except that he bore a rather substantial travelling pack on his back which threatened to crush him. Judd wouldn’t have been surprised if the pack wasn’t twice as heavy as the cleric himself.

Judd’s own pack consisted of a bedroll, a few scraps of food which were the remains of the rations supplied by the stewards of Sir Rylan’s academy of knighthood and a whetstone with which to sharpen his sword.

“Caste, if we do not make haste, we will be travelling in the dark.” Judd pointed out.

Caste wheezed, putting his hand onto a tree and leaning into a stitch in his side.

Thankfully the weather was perfectly clement so if they had to sleep outside, it would at least be warm. After leaving Astaril they had travelled through the outer farming regions to where large expanses of property were maintained by single stations. The farmers and station owners had been perfectly accommodating, allowing them to sleep in their haylofts. This was not to Caste’s liking and he made sure Judd knew how much the straw itched and how the animals affected his sinuses. They had left the furthest station to the east of Astaril two days ago and had to sleep out in the open for one night.

This was also not to Caste’s liking.

“Why do we not swap packs?” Judd offered.

Caste held up his hand and shook his head.

“I…was…entrusted…with the…knowledge…of the…Order…”

“We’re running out of daylight Caste. Either I take the pack or you stagger on without resting.” Judd insisted, hoping that his mild threat would force his companion into accepting his help.

Caste heaved the pack firmly onto his shoulders and braced himself. He could spare no more energy to speak, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the next. Judd chuckled and fell into step beside him, letting the cleric have his own, stubborn, way.

Since leaving the farms behind, the landscape had become rockier, boulders breaking through the wild grasses that quivered in every breeze. Nothing was neat or trimmed, tended or planted. No, here the world was uncultivated and unkempt. There could be dangers lurking around any corner, bandits, brigands…monsters even. Judd half expected to look up and see a harpy descend upon them in such beautifully wild country.

Judd’s spine trembled in delight.

The foothills of the northern mountain range that only ended when the continent met the relentlessly turbulent ocean was their goal. There was a village nestled against the slopes, tucked away in a forest and according to one of the farmers whose loft they had stayed in, plagued by a witch. To begin his journey to knighthood by cutting down a witch…surely this would bode well for the rest of his endeavours.

“How fortunate for us that someone knew of a monster that exists on the list provided by the academy of knighthood?” Judd remarked. “We might have wandered for days before finding anything.” Caste couldn’t speak but he did manage to roll his eyes. “Even you cannot complain about our good fortune. And so close to Astaril. This threat must be dealt with.” Judd put his thumbs through the straps on his pack and looked up at the sky that was starting to succumb to the softer hues of eventide. “I know it is not first on the list…but when I inquired if the monsters should be cut down in order, the steward said that it mattered not. So it does not necessarily mean that the monsters at the top of the list are easier than the ones at the bottom.”

Caste’s heavy breathing was all the reply Judd received.

“And after I have cut down all the monsters…I shall be a knight.” Though it was hard to tell, Caste’s huffs sounded a little more…scornful for a moment before he returned to regular gasping for air. “Whatever you may think, I will be a knight. I’ve dreamed about being one since I was a child.”

They kept to the path that was nearly obscured by thick ground cover that didn’t realise a road needed to be seen in order to be followed. It took them to the top of a rise where trees began to fill the landscape, thickening in number the further away they were. And beyond the border of the forest, there was the tell tale sign of civilisation, a single plume of smoke rising above the tree tops. The path they were on led them straight into the forest. While Judd hoped for a dark, intimidating jungle, he couldn’t fault the forest for its warm air and pleasant surroundings.

As the light was truly beginning to wane, they reached the village.

Judd had grown up in Astaril so he was used to a metropolis’ roads and buildings yet he was born the son of a fisherman and had humble origins despite his family’s current wealth. So he didn’t baulk at the clothes flapping on lines stretched between houses made from mud brick and thatched rooves. He wasn’t precious about avoiding the manure on the ground dropped from the pigs and sheep that roamed freely, blissfully ignorant that they might indeed be supper. He smiled at the children who play fought together then dropped their sticks when they saw the two visitors. They ran away to hide behind their mother’s skirts who looked at them warily.

“Wait…”

Judd paused and looked at Caste who waved his hands at him.

“For what?”

“To be invited in…”

“Oh,” Judd stepped back to stand in line with Caste, “thank you.” He was well aware that he was not versed in common courtesy when travelling.

A barefoot man in trousers, tunic and a thick cloak, approached them. “My name is Klin. Are you lost, weary travellers?”

“We are not lost,” Judd explained, “I am Judd LaMogre and this is my cleric, Caste…er…”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Undern…”

“Caste Undern,” Judd made a mental note to apologise for forgetting his cleric’s name…he was terrible with names, “from Astaril.”

“Travellers from Astaril?” Klin raised his eyebrows. “What brings you so far north?”

“We have heard that your village is plagued by a witch…”

Klin stepped forward, putting his finger to his lips and Judd’s words died out.

“Say nothing more,” Kiln whispered then declared loudly, “it is so easy to become lost in the wilds where the paths have all become overgrown. Please, allow me to extend to you the hospitality of our home.” He gestured for them to follow and they did so, walking around the well where more villagers were gathered, speaking softly and glancing at them. “You must excuse our curiosity, Sir Knight. We do not receive many visitors.”

Judd wanted to correct Klin’s misinterpretation of him being a knight but was silenced as he urged them into his house which was small by Astaril standards but clearly the largest in the village, boasting all of four rooms. It smelt of warmth, spices and though the ground was packed dirt underfoot, the home had a soft atmosphere to it as though it was a safe and loving place to live.

Klin closed the door behind them then pulled the curtains closed before lighting a candle. “Forgive my hasty greeting,” he apologised, gesturing to them to sit at the table on three legged stools, “but I felt your safety was worth my rudeness. I would never wish to offend a knight of Astaril.”

“I am not a knight,” Judd hastily explained and Klin blinked, his good natured face revealing understandable surprise, “but, the stars willing, I will be one.”

Caste gave a small, less than well concealed, huff next to him which he chose to ignore.

“You seek to distinguish yourself by slaying a witch as dangerous as Dragoslava…yet you are not even a true knight?” Klin shook his head. “Young man, I urge you to reconsider…Dragoslava is not to be trifled with. She lives deep in the forest and has held our village in thrall for nearly three decades.”

“You have not sought help from King Rocheveron?” Caste asked, sitting primly on the stool, trying not to touch anything with his pack resting on the ground, off his weary shoulders.

“We were warned that any attempt to seek help would be met with retribution.” Klin explained.

“How would she know?” Caste demanded and Klin leaned forward, the table creaking slightly as the mood darkened around them.

“Dragoslava reads minds…she knows our thoughts…and she can kill without ever coming close to you.”

Judd’s skin prickled and he began to question the stupidity of challenging a monster that was far down the list. He should have started with something easy like goblins. But he was here now and these people needed help. Klin’s eyes were desperate for him to believe, to be warned at the danger.

“I will not be swayed from my quest.” Judd responded with more confidence than he felt, straightening his shoulders. “Monsters have plagued the citizens of Terra for hundreds of years while their kin beat mindlessly against the wall to the south. It is time we knew true peace in our land.”

“Judd, you should listen to the man,” Caste looked at him, “you are not ready for this.”

“Your learned friend speaks wisely.” Klin insisted.

“And yet I am undeterred…” Judd stood up, sure his knees were turning to jelly.

“Good sir, I beg you to reconsider,” Klin urged, “at least wait until the morning. Even an experienced knight would hesitate to enter the woods at night for the moon’s light has an evil glow just as the stars shine brightly with hope.”

Judd sighed and sank back onto his stool, conceding to Klin’s advice. “I will wait until morning.”

Klin visibly relaxed. “Then allow me the pleasure of sharing our evening meal with you.”

A pig was roasted over a spit and the villagers gathered around the fire to celebrate their liberator. Crackles and sparks drifted into the air, following the wafts of smoke that could not veil the countless stars in the sky. The mood was celebratory, quietly so but joyful nonetheless. Judd’s shoulders and back were sore by the end of the evening from the slaps he received as the men and women of the village praised his intent to slay the witch. He wished their words were equally as encouraging.

“I’ll be sure to raise a glass to the star you shall become upon your death.”

“Never look the witch in the eyes lest she turn you to stone!”

“Good intentions are never wasted. Take care.”

Judd escaped the clamour of the crowd to recline next to Caste who sat primly on a log. His hands were tightly clasped in his lap and if anyone walked past him, Caste squished his shoulders together, trying to avoid all contact. Judd held up his stein of mead.

“This isn’t bad.”

“Oh sure, if you don’t mind risking at least a dozen poisons whose flavour could be masked by the overwhelming taste.” Caste remarked tightly.

Judd shook his head. “They’re not going to poison me. They’re celebrating me. They want to be free of the witch.”

“Or they’re performing the wake before the funeral.”

Judd rolled his eyes and sat up as a blushing young woman approached him with a jug. “More mead?”

“Thank you.” Judd nodded and gave her a lopsided smile.

She giggled bashfully then turned to Caste. “Would you care for some?”

“No thank you.” Caste said curtly and she bobbed and moved away, Klin coming forward to take her place.

“Is the mead to your liking, sir knight?” He asked, sitting on the ground next to Judd.

“Very fine.” Judd chuckled.

“I make it myself. The secret ingredient is honey.”

“Honey…” Judd looked at Caste and grinned.

Caste’s gaze was deathless but Judd had endured the disapproval of his parents upon his declaration of intent to pursue his knighthood. Klin waved to a young boy who held a plate of shredded meat and slabs of bread.

“Try the pork,” he insisted as the boy came over, “and the bread is freshly baked.”

“You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” Judd insisted, feeling somewhat guilty about his hero treatment.

“For the man who would rid us of Dragoslava?” Klin returned with equal certainty.

Judd cleared his throat and sat up, taking some warm bread and meat. “Thank you.” He said to the boy whose eyes were flinty and his mouth was turned down.

“Are you really going to kill the witch?” The boy asked.

Judd nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Rather than be elated like the rest of the village, the boy’s eyes sharpened.

“Why can’t you just leave her alone?”

“Anto,” Klin stood up and grasped the boy’s shoulders, looking into his eyes, “please…”

Anto wrenched himself away and hurried to the other side of the fire. Klin looked at Judd and Caste with a rather guilty expression.

“Forgive my son,” he blurted, “Anto fears Dragoslava’s retribution should you fail.”

“Retribution?”

“She has been known to steal children from the village. We do not know what happens to them.”

“Why do you stay?” Caste demanded. “Why not leave?”

“We dare not risk her ire. If she is happy, then we have abundance.” Klin coughed and gestured to the food. “Please, eat.”

Judd swallowed down the meat and bread as best he could. Thankfully the mead relaxed the tension he’d felt building in his body and sometime after midnight he stumbled into the room Klin told him he could sleep in. Caste was lying very still, arms cross over his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid touching as much as possible. At Judd’s entrance, he opened one eye and glared at him.

“Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“I brought you some bread.” Judd offered, holding it out. “I noticed you didn’t eat much…if anything.”

“I will not eat in a place such as this.” Caste retorted. “I doubt any of them have any concept of cleanliness regarding food preparation.”

Judd slumped onto the bedroll, dropping the bread onto his pack. He heaved himself onto his back and let out a deep sigh. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out the strands of straw above him and could hear the light sounds of the village settling down for the night. Everything was becoming calm and quiet, meaning his inner turmoil could be more easily heard.

“Do you think the witch…can be killed?”

“She can.”

“By me?”

“No.”

Judd rolled onto his side to look at Caste. “Really? That’s all I’m getting?”

He sensed Caste was rolling his eyes behind his eyelids. “What more do you want?”

“You’re the cleric assigned to me! You’re the one who’s supposed to advise me on my journey to knighthood.”

“I told you, you were going to die.”

“That’s not advice.”

Caste huffed and opened both eyes, staring up at the thatch. “Yes, it is. Advice is guidance or recommendations regarding a prudent future action.”

Judd blinked. “Oh…”

Caste grunted. “You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

“I’m…figuring it out.”

Caste moaned and put his hands on his face. “What was Sir Rylan thinking? Offering knighthoods to the eldest sons of middle class families? You don’t have the training…the bloodline…your knowledge or lack thereof is unfathomable…”

“That’s why you’re here!” Judd sat up. “You’re the brains! I mean…you’re a cleric of the Order of the Grail. You’ve got to be somewhat…smart…I guess…”

Caste sat up and glared at him. “Somewhat smart? I am the youngest son of a noble family in Astaril. I have been tutored in history, geography, mathematics, science, biology, languages and the contamination of the south as well as the philosophy and theology of the Order of the Grail. My ‘smarts’ cannot be accurately measured by any layman margin, making me the youngest novitiate to be accepted into the order. My attentiveness to detail and perfect recall then made me the youngest novitiate to become a cleric.” Caste stood up and brushed off the little flakes of straw that had settled over him from the underside of the thatch. “I was on my way to being named the youngest deacon of the Order of the Grail when this ludicrous endeavour by Sir Rylan saw me assigned to you, an inexperienced fisherman’s son of a barely middle class family. Now, all my work, my knowledge…my training…all of it is to be thrown away while you embrace delusions of grandeur and I…”

Interrupting Caste’s rant was a solid snore from Judd. Caste looked down at him, his fingers curled into fists and his indignation rising. He debated about smiting Judd with something but was loathed to touch anything other than what he absolutely had to.

A week ago, Caste had dined at the table of Bishop Peele and the dozen archdeacons, an elevated role of deacon of the Order of the Grail, a sure sign that Caste was being considered for early advancement.

Now…he was sleeping in filth, starving and would have to attempt to sleep while the young man he was tasked with ‘advising’ snored loudly next to him.

Caste lay down and rolled onto his side and wondered how his life had gone so wrong.