Knock. A fist rammed into the wooden door. It drummed again with another knock knock. Three more knocks passed before the door finally unlocked and opened; revealing a young red headed teenage boy with his hand primed for another knock.
“Sorry about that.” A man of middle age said with a slight chuckle. He had short curly brown hair with matching brown eyes and a muscular frame of slightly over average height, perfect for a hunter. “I wasn’t expecting you for a bit longer. Faster than I thought.” The man moved to the side and invited the boy in.
“I try!” The boy answered with a triumphant nod as he entered. His emerald green eyes reflected an odd sort of pride of being early. “It’s the little guys birthday, I couldn’t be late.” The two exchanged a chuckle as they made their way through the small but cozy looking cottage lined and filled with all the standard amenities. The back door was already open and the father took a step out first.
“Guess who’s here?” He gave a chipper shout that grabbed the attention of the two young boys. Their faces exploded into joy as the delivery boy came into view.
“Kieren!” One shouted as he ran over and dove into him.
With a spin on his heel Kieren spun to the side and caught the kid with his left hand and gave him a light chop right through his curly brown hair with his right. “Too slow.” He winked.
“Not for me!” The other child of matching hair and eyes lunged towards him. Kieren shot the dad a wink and lowered his arms. The boy succeeded in his tackle, sending the delivery boy onto the ground back first. He then immediately lifted the boy into the air and he extended his arms with a loud but triumphant glee.
“Wouldja look at that, you’re flying!” Kieren smiled as the young one pretended to fly. He could have dodged the charge, or tried to create some elaborate counter, but it was his birthday. In Kieren’s mind the little guy deserved a fun little victory.
“Can’t have you getting hurt on your birthday.” The boy’s father walked up and took him from Kieren and set the kid down and watched him quickly rejoin his brother and running around the laughing delivery boy. The man then extended his hand and helped their guest back onto his feet and gave him a thankful pat on the back before the four made their way deeper into the rear yard where the mother sat on a chair.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Walsh.” Kieren gave a small nod of his head.
“I’m so happy you could make it.” She pushed out of her chair with a soft smile. She was a rather lovely woman who, despite being from a modest home, had a slightly more reserved and elegance to her. From a glance you wouldn’t be able to tell either of the children were hers. Her blond hair and blue eyes had clearly been overridden by their fathers more dominant genes. “I’m sure Little Finn will love his gift.”
“Kieren brought a gift!?” Finn and his brother shot up like a couple of ground moles.
Kieren turned with a bright smile. “You thought I wouldn’t? It’s your birthday!” The boy gave the little one another small playful chop on his head. “What did you think I came for?”
“To play!” The duo answered quickly. “But this is even better!”
With a snicker Kieren looked over at the parent. “Could have saved you both some money if that’s all they needed.”
“But then who’d help me?” Mr. Walsh pushed his hands against his hips. “He’s gonna need that if he wants to.”
“You don’t mean!?” Finn jumped in as if knowing the gift immediately.
“That’s no fair!” His brother protested.
“Is it?” Kieren asked as he sat down on the crisp winter grass. It was a wonderful day despite the time of the year. The sun was high and the clouds looked like dreams. There was just enough wind to keep the out of season warmth from building up, but not so much that it’d become a nuisance. Before the two could fight, Kieren pulled a small wooden box out of his bag. “Well, it’s a good thing I thought you might get a little jealous.” He winked at the littlest of the two. With flick the claps open and revealed the contents. Within were two sets of knives- one metal and the other out of stone. The children were in pure awe at the sheen of the metal knives. Finn moved his hand towards it only for the delivery boy to snap the lid shut. “Remember, you gotta be careful with these. I don’t want to be hearing you made your mamma worried, alright?”
Fin gave a rapid series of nods. “I promise!”
Kieren looked back at the parents who both gave a nod with a smile. He opened the box again and pulled out what was obviously a hunting knife. “Each of these have different purposes, like this one. This is the one you’ll be using when you help out your old man.” He tossed the knife up and quickly caught it by the tip of the blade, lowering the handle down towards the child. As Finn took the knife a firm chop came down on Kieren's head. “Ow!” He jerked back.
“Don’t be tossing your knives around like that, he’s a bad example.” Mrs. Walsh spoke with a sigh. Finn didn’t even respond, choosing instead to inspect his new gift.
Kieren let out a small laugh and pulled the rather dull stone knife and handed it to the younger one. “Remember; be careful. I don’t need your mom hittin’ me.”
“But you deserved it!” He said as he took the slightly heavy knife that caused his body to tip slightly from the sudden weight.
“I got excited!” He retorted a terrible excuse before pulling out a few smaller knives from the box and standing up. In truth he just wanted to show off and ultimately show off he would. “Finn!” He shouted a slight bit to get the child's attention. “You wanna see a fun little trick my dad taught me?” He smirked.
“A trick!? Of course!”
“Oh dear…” She sighed and looked to her husband who gave her a wink.
“I asked him to show them.”
“Well, if you say so. Be careful Kieren.”
“Am I ever not?” He tossed the first knife up and caught it by the tip of the blade. “Your dad also knows how to do this.” He looked at Finn. “I might not be around to teach yah, but he sure can.” He swung his arm and released the knife and sent it like an arrow directly into the tree a few feet from where they stood.
“Wha!?”
“That’s awesome!” Finn's eyes lit up.
“Hit this!” The father said as he tossed a barrel lid high into the air.
Kieren smiled and tossed the second of the three up, grabbed it by the tip and sent it careening into the lid, followed immediately by the final one faster than the kids could keep up. His finger brushed against his nose with a triumphant smile as the lid landed with both knives lodged perfectly in it. “Cool, huh?”
“Teach me, teach me, teach me!” Both sang in unison as they tugged against his shirt.
“No can do! Your mom would turn me into that lid if I did.”
Mr. Walsh laughed and knelt down to put his hand on his children's head. “Kieren’s about to go away for a while, so I’ll teach you while he's gone so you can impress him when he gets back. Sound good?”
The younger one's eyes exploded like an eruption of stardust at the thought of learning what he had seen. Finn, however, turned to look at the delivery boy. “Where are yah going?”
He responded first with a shrug. “Don’t really know. Your dad probably knows more about it than I do. Just something I have to do.” He ruffled the kids' hair. “If you can beat me when I get back, I’ll make you a new set of knives, deal?”
“I’ma win!” He shouted before putting his knife gently in the box and running off to his mother with his brother.
Kieren gave Mrs. Walsh a smile and a wave before retreating into the house with the father. “You’ll do just fine.” He finally broke the silence when he opened the door. “I’m sure ole Moloney is going to be lonely without you. I know we’ll miss you. Oh, and thank you for extra knives.”
“You’ll be fine!” Kieren smiled. “Without you I wouldn’t know a poisonous mushroom from a good’in, least I could do is a couple of stone knives.” Kieren stepped out and turned out. “Thanks Mr. Walsh.”
“Don’t go dyin’ on us.” He said as he ruffled the boy's hair. “Don’t need your dad to go back to being a drunken mess again.”
“Eesh! Yeah, can’t have that happening…” The two gave a laugh and a wave as the door shut.
The smiths shop was warm. Wooden tables lined with various steel tools and overhead shelves with what appeared to be raw materials. At the far side of the room was a table with a ledger and a cabinet behind with some genuine weapons. Due to the warmth of the day, the fireplace behind the counter had not been lit, instead holding the log supply next to it in a neat stack. The bell rang as the door opened and Kieren made his way over the green carpeted floor, around the desk, and then checked to make sure the fireplace was out. “I’m back!” He shouted towards the door in the rear corner while setting his courier back on a hook behind the counter. He then went to take a black apron from the wall, slipped it on, and made his way out the rear door. “Yah hear me?” He asked as a hammer came down.
The tall hulking man lifted his head and gave a bearded nod before striking the metal again. “They like ‘em?”
“Sure did. Even liked my little extra.”
Moloney chuckled as he struck the metal again. “That so?” He was a stocky man of massive height with long grey-stained black hair and matching beard that came to his mid chest, and a pair of worn dark blue eyes. “The little stone ‘ins, right?”
“Yup! I made sure to keep the edges of ‘em on the duller side. Don’t need them comin’ over all mad.”
“I’ll be the one hearin’ it.”
“And then it’d roll downhill.”
“Sure would. Han’ me the stamp, would yah?” He pointed to the rear bench to the side of the shut crucible. Kieren gave a nod and moved through the messy workshop to the tune of hammer strikes. Broken and half-finished weapons and tools laid in a half-kept pile on the other side of the inspection bench or in various worn barrels near the door he had entered from. A laundry list of defects and failures for every stamped one. Near the bench Maloney was at was a rather wide barn style door that opened up to the rear of the property. Kieren had poked his head out that door a few times and it was far worse off than the workshop proper. Moloney was an incredibly talented smith, but an absolute workaholic and utter perfectionist. Cleaning the shop was akin to pulling teeth to the man, causing the responsibility to usually fall to Kieren between lessons and deliveries. Even then the sheer lengths the boy would have to go to justify the removal of failures was incredibly high. Maloney was someone who wanted to see his every fault. To him each held a learning experience akin to a textbook to any scholar in a library. It drove Kieren mad, but he had always respected the man’s dedication to his craft. He was covered in burns, always drenched in sweat, and functioning near the brink of exhaustion. But the smile that man gave when he finished a project was like no other. Kieren searched the cluttered desk for a few minutes before finding the stamp under a pall of leather scraps.
“Found it.” Kieren chimed as he turned and almost ran into a hanging plank.
“Careful, you haven’t cleaned for a few weeks.”
Kieren shot the man a look as he placed the stamp on a small stand near the anvil. “You know I’ll be gone for a while, right?”
“Good. You can clean before yah go. I’ll have it ready for yah when you get back.” Kieren's head tilted slightly to the side at the comment. “Bring that over here.” Moloney pointed to the base of his current project's blade. “Right there.” Kieren leaned slightly and pressed the stamp against the metal while Moloney fished out a finishing hammer from his belt and handed it to the boy. “Three light hits. Anymore and I’ll kill yah.” Clank. Clank. Clank. Kieren lifted the stamp and Moloney took the knife blade away and quickly moved to submerge it in a barrel of nearby water. “Not bad.”
“Thanks.” He responded as he handed the hammer back and moved to put the stamp near the anvil. “Anything else?”
The smith pulled the knife from the water and gave it a good once over before sloppily making his way to the finishing bench. On his way the sound of the shop doors bell chimed. “That.” Kieren gave a reluctant chuckle at the timing and untied his apron while making his way to the door.
“Welcome to-” Kieren spoke as he entered the room before the familiar figure came into view. “Oh, hi dad!”
“Figured you’d be here.” The tall man spoke with a deep, hefty tone. The spitting image of his son only with a few extra years tacked on and an neatly trimmed beard. Killian sported slightly longer red hair, a pair of blue eyes, and lean muscular build hidden beneath his knights cloak. “Moloney around?”
“He’s in the back working on something.”
“Perfect.” He smirked. “You getting excited?”
“Not at all.” Kieren's answer remained unchanged. Killian had probed this answer on multiple different visits and always got the same response.
“You could at least pretend.”
“Nope!” Kieren smiled. “That’d be lying to yah.”
Killian gave a chuckle while making his way to the door. “Can’t argue with that. C’mon, I got something to ask him.”
“Oh, sure.” Kieren followed his father through the door back into the workshop.
The door to the workshop closed behind the boy as he watched his father expertly weave through the hanging and piling clutter. “Moloney yah old fox, have yah heard of tidying up?”
“Your sons slackin’. Not on me.”
“No I’m not!” Kieren shouted.
“Is he taking naps?”
“Nah. Makin’ tools out of rocks.”
“Really, for who?”
“Kids.”
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“You agreed it was a good idea!” The boy shouted again.
“I said they’d like it, never told yah to do it.” Kieren's face bunched up in annoyance. “Yer the one that insisted. Anywho, it’s all done.” Moloney tied a nice red ribbon into a knot around a rather plain looking wooden box. “Here.”
“Perfect timing!” Killian took the box and played around with it as if to examine it. “Good heft.”
“It’s in a box.” Moloney blinked in response. “Yer not using the box.”
“I can tell through the box.”
“Sure.” Moloney waved a hand. “None of that freaky Fianna crud here, yah hear? And don’t you go be’in like your old man when you get out, got it kid?”
“Didn’t plan on it.” Kieren responded, shooting his dad a jovial smirk.
“Rude!” Killian barked. “He’d be lucky if he was half the man I am.”
“Yeah, I’m good-” Kieren was cut off by the sudden hand landing on his head. “H-hey!” There was a hint of silence as Killian gestured to Moloney. It took a moment before Kieren realized what his dad was doing. A small frown appeared on his face and he shifted. “Mr. Moloney?”
“Yeah?” The smith said as he thumbed through the journal on his desk.
“I’m headin’ out.”
“Kay.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “When you get back make sure you clean the place real good.”
Kieren gave a small laugh. “I will.”
The father and son gave a final goodbye and left the workshop the same way they came in. Moloney waited for the sound of the door chime before he let out a deep sigh. He turned and looked at the workshop in its current state and gave a reluctant nod. “Time to get tah work.” He told himself as he walked away from the notebook with various notes and drawings for a sword on it. “Can’t have ‘im coming home to nothin’.”
The walk home was somber. The village of Ley was a small and remote township that rested next to a large mountain fed lake. Sporting less than 100 inhabitants the village was more so used as a rest stop between older trade routes. As such, only merchants and the very rare Knight made their way here via either the long train station or the older less frequently used roads. The town had history in the form of a dilapidated cathedral a little way up the mountain, but even then, the residents either didn’t care enough to tell it- or actively tried to hide it. The houses were all brick and mortar with shingle roofs or, as with the Walsh’s, more traditional cottage style. The central road and its offshoots were all cut stone courtesy of Moloney's late father and grandfather. For a town of its size it was surprisingly well kept and pretty, a favorite of the passing merchants who rather stop in the town and enjoy a day of rest than take some of the more speedy routes from the major hubs.
The Albho house was in the eastern part of town and overlooked the lake. Small for a Knights residence, Killian had always preached ‘quality over quantity’ and avoided extra rooms or halls when necessary. Rather than the elaborate estates most of his peers would have, Killian opted for a house in similar design to the rest of the town. It was on the small side, sure, but the view and size of the property were nothing to scoff at. It was an odd property for an odd Knight, and the only one that seemed to reside in the township.
A lone large maple tree overlooked the lake and a wood chip arena in the yard were really all there was. The arena was where Killian spent most of his time teaching his son various tricks and techniques when he was home. They would use the mountains for basic survival practice or the odd hunting exercise, both of which the elder Walsh would join to help out. Killian would often ask certain people to aid in his son's training to help ensure the boy was getting the best advice.
The Large tree, however, served a more somber purpose. His father never outright stated what it was or represented, but the clues were obvious. He would often call a training day or two off around the same time of year and spend most of those days next to the tree with a drink in hand. Kieren hardly remembered his mother, but he was sure that tree had something to do with her.
Killian opened the large wooden door to the house before noticing Kieren was already making his way to the arena. He hadn’t planned on doing any training with his son today, instead choosing to spend their last day together far calmer and more peaceful than the norm. For a moment he thought of telling him to skip the pit and come in, but he couldn’t help himself. He tossed his bag inside, shut the door, and made his way to the pit behind his son. If Kieren wanted one last session before he left, he’d get one.
“So, what’s the plan for today? Swords, hands…” he paused with a slight hesitation before finishing “Endurance?”
“Never got why you hated the endurance training so much.”
“You know I don’t like running.” He sighed. “And you make it way worse.”
Killian shifted his head and furrowed a brow. “You do know where you’re going, right?” With a chuckle he made his way to a rack of various wooden weapons and the knife lodged into the bench next to it on the far side of the pit. He eyed the entire assortment for a moment before letting out a confused huff. “You know what you need?” He turned back to face his son.
Kieren raised a brow. “What…?”
His father pulled the sword affixed to his hip free from its sheath, leaving the one on his back still clasped. He shot his son a smirk and tossed the sword into the ground, blade first, directly in front of Kierens feet. “To feel the real thing.”
Kieren blinked a bit in disbelief. “Yah sure?” He asked while contradicting his question by taking hold of the sword handle and pulling it free. “What if you get hurt?”
“You think you’d actually hit me?” Killian smirked. “Please, I’d be more worried about cutting yourself.” Kieren's left eye twitched almost instinctively. “Your goal is to land a single hit or push me out of the pit.”
While he was listening, Kieren was examining the sword. “And yours?”
“To see if you’re ready.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s see if you can finish before sundown. Should give you an hour or so.” Killian had to hold back a smile as he watched Kieren continue to examine the weapon. If he could get his son even a little more adept with the real thing, this night would be a success. “Show me the fruits of your labor.”
While Killian was tossing his cloak and extra sword onto the bench Kieren was readying his combat stance. The father returned with only a few pieces of his rather thin and light plate armor still attached before giving a good stretch. Kieren’s stance was far from a standard one, or even what most would consider “acceptable”. He kept his body open with his left hand open and in line with his left leg and his right, which held the sword, pointing towards the ground and in line with his right leg. The left foot pointed straight forward while his right was a comfortable yet slightly distance from 45 degrees. The stance left him with a plethora of defensive holes- yet his father was insistent he use it. A few adjustments to suit him slightly more comfortably and it was his, albeit odd, own stance.
His rear foot kicked off the sandy wood chips and his head dropped as he charged forward, flourishing the blade by his side as he did so. He then proceeded to slam his left foot into the ground only a couple feet from his father, leapt to the right with his left foot, and tried to use the odd movement to kick off again with his right into the air, spinning his body and swinging the blade for a strike. Killian did the minimum to duck beneath the swing before slamming his open palm into Kieren's stomach. For all the odd movements the bizarre onslaught had been thwarted with a simple dodge and strike. As Kierens midair body fell back Killian grabbed his ankle and went to throw him. In retaliation Kieren grit his teeth and swung his body up like a midair pull up and swung for his father’s wrist with the sword. Instinctively Killian released his grip on the ankle and spun around for a punch aimed at the boy’s side, only for his fist to collide with the blunt side of the sword. The impact of fist to steel was enough to send the boy tumbling back a few yards. Kieren had flourished the blade knowing the only response to his strike was to let go and expected a follow up strike. He then opted to use the sword like a mini shield with his other hand and arm aiding to brace for the coming strike to avoid central damage.
Killian smirked as the kicked-up dust wafted across the arena. The first of many exchanges had reached its conclusion and one thing was abundantly clear to him: he had come a long, long way. Kieren had always been a fast learner, but his ability to adjust movements and compute responses had been one of the few gift his father passed down that he was proud of. That natural battle instinct had blossomed into something many knights would die for. Though it was still in its infancy and lacked real combat experience it would suite him well in the coming struggles.
The sword tip slammed into the ground as Kieren used the blade to help pull himself off the ground. He was far from disappointed from the exchange. He had underestimated just how much heavier the real thing was compared to the training ones. But he had emerged from the scuffle far more confident than when he went in. “I can do this…” He told himself with a grin before kicking off again.
The two traded blows in a myriad of exchanges. Each strike, slash, or block Kieren made was getting ever so slightly faster. In turn Killian would allow slightly more movement from his legs, and slightly more complex blocks and parries. His goal was not an absolute demolishment of Kieren’s pride or ego- but to highlight his strengths and weaknesses. He would intentionally allow certain movements to come closer to that sought after cut or block more obvious or lazy strategies in order to force the correct evolution.
Hours passed and the pit resembled a dust storm beneath the near set sun. The air was thick and stained yellow. Beads of sweat fell from all over Kieren’s body. He could feel his lips cracking from the sheer amount of panting he had been doing. He spat onto the sand and gave his hand a glance. His entire right arm was slightly shaking due to the weight of the sword. Noticing the slowdown Killian thought of taunting but opted against it. He didn’t need to. He could tell his son was about to prepare for something, a final Hail Mary.
“Calm.” Kieren told himself. His eyes danced around the arena as to take in every piece of information he could. He smirked and stood up straight. With a flourish of the blade, he started to walk to the right. Killian caught on immediately, and with an amused chuckle, followed along and started walking to his right. Kieren stopped, closed his eyes, and took a long deep breath. His body was heavy, his breathing ragged, and his muscles ached. And yet that smirk held steadfast across his face. If this was the norm in the scar, if this feeling of fatigue was what he was going to have to get used to, he couldn’t help but get excited. He had always hated the endurance runs and the other exercises. But the real thing? He loved the way it made his heart pump. With his breathing brought back under control his eyes opened, and Killian gave a small but sincere smile. They were eerily calm- much like the eye of a storm.
“There it is.” He said quietly to himself as a proud feeling of warmth washed over him. “Your backs to the wall and you’re running out of time. That’s the only look I want to see.”
The boy’s foot left the ground faster than his mind could keep up and he moved across the pit like a bolt of lightning. The sword was pulled to his side and then thrust forward. “Shallow.” Killian thought. The blade swung down and stabbed into the sand and like a javelin Kieren used it to swing his body up into the air. With the air of his momentum, he ripped the blade from the ground and primed to land behind his father.
Not wanting to give his son too much room to work with, Killian immediately dropped and swung his legs out in a sweep kick aimed where he believed his sons ankles should be. He moved so quickly he hardly had a moment to see Kieren had used his core to spin during his descent and dove the blade into the spot he should have landed on. Killian’s hand slammed onto the sand, and he pulled his legs in to avoid the blade. ”What are you planning?” He asked himself as he quickly spun around and drove his heel into the sword's handle. By the time they connect Kieren had already used the sword to slingshot off and land on the bench beyond while the sword was sent careening across the pit and by the kick. The complete lack of downtime was incredible. Kieren had spent nearly no time on the bench, leaping off of it and back towards Killian.
Clang! Kieren had thrown the knife that had been on the bench at Killian to which he had parried only to be confronted by Kieren’s leg swinging through the air in a bid to kick his head. Killian lowered his body and dropped below the swing kick only for the onslaught to continue by a full midair spin from the boy into another kick being thrusted to the new position of his head. He quickly thought about blocking the attack but momentarily as he saw Kieren’s eyes and the odd glistening arcs they provided.
“Máire, a long time ago I remember you telling me about how my eyes looked when I fought.” Killian smiled and threw his arms out to grab Kieren by his leg and toss him back. He then leaped back for the extra distance. “I think I finally get what you mean. When he gives me that look,” His foot dug into the sand and he charged forward as Kieren landed- there eyes one in the same. “There’s just no way to hold back!”
Kieren’s toes touched the ground first. His knees bent to cushion the fall and his head looked up. The knife was slowly spinning in the air above him while it fell towards the ground. He went to jump but his leg buckled under his weight. Fatigue was finally taking hold of him. He paid it no mind though. He was calm, collected, and hyper fixated on the path he thought, no knew, would lead to victory: a tunnel vision euphoria like no other. So he pulled all his strength in and swung his arms up with a leap fueled by everything he had in a flip. The foot met the butt of the knife, and his eyes met his fathers. “Keep going.” He ordered himself internally as he kicked the midair knife at his father.
The next moments would lodge themselves deep into Killian’s memory. He knew Kieren’s body was likely on the verge of giving out. They had been at this for nearly an hour straight after all. But Kieren kept pushing and kept finding new ways to try and catch him off guard. Clang! The parried knife flew into the air once more while Kieren’s hands slammed into the ground in a handstand. “More.” Had the boy had more energy he would have been able to throw himself foot first at his father, but he didn’t. His right arm buckled, and he fell to the ground with a loud thud.
Refusing to quit, Kieren kicked up and pushed off the ground after momentarily struggling to get onto his feet. He charged forward and swung a fist. Then another, and another all while the lingering golden warmth of the sunset continued to slowly draw to a close. The two engaged in a brief dance of fists ending with Killian’s palm slamming into his son's gut again. “More.” Kieren dug his foot into the sand and pushed forward yet again, priming a punch that would never connect. Right as he swung his knees fully gave out and he fell towards the ground he so desperately refused to meet. However, before he could connect Killian caught him in unison with the knife landing a few feet away.
Killian smiled while a lone tear rolled down his cheek. “Yeah, you’re ready.”
“You’re so much like me it hurts.” Killian spoke as the train roared across the vast stretch of open wilderness. A day had passed, and the father and son duo were now on route to place Kieren would spend the next half decade. The train itself was nice, rather ornate wooden and interior with all manner of gold and silver trim. The two sat across on leather benches. A table rested between them with various meal stuffs and beverages on it.
“That hurts.” Kieren smirked while taking a sip of his coffee.
“All you need is to meet a nice girl when you get there, and you’ll practically just be worse looking me.”
Kieren lowered the cup. “Ignoring that last bit, didn’t mom try to kill you?”
“Sure tried.”
“You sound pretty happy about that.”
“Sure am. Nothing says romance like a boatload of cuts.”
“Please never compare me to you again.”
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I don’t want to.”
Killian gave a small chuckle and took a sip of his drink. “Jokes aside: there’s a high chance you’ll have to kill at least 1 person, you realize that right? That place has a habit of drawing out the worst in people.”
The cup of coffee was placed onto the saucer- a practice Kieren was wholly unused to. “If I do, I do. I don’t want to, but I also need to make sure I get back.” He looked up at his dad with a smile. “Still got a score to settle.”
Killian let his son's words linger in the air for a moment. The response was obviously halfhearted. He had taken his son on multiple hunting trips to prepare him for independent survival, but obviously he wouldn’t be able to prepare him for that choice and the metal collateral it would demand. A sigh finally emerged. “You wing it way more often than you should. Just make sure when the time comes you don’t hesitate. It’ll save your life, or someone else’s.”
“I won’t. Any other nuggets?”
“Yeah, just one.” Kieren raised a brow at his father’s lingering words. “Keep a good head on your shoulders. Anger’ll get you killed faster than anything in there.”
“Then I got nothing to worry about.” The two bathed in the momentary silence before giving a laugh in unison. “I’ll make sure to try.”
“Good.”
The two continued to enjoy each other’s company and conversation for the hours to come. Neither really wanted the train to arrive at the station. Both would sooner go home and continue their routine. A reluctant father who had nothing but the utmost faith in his son, and a boy with a future of endless possibilities. They were the only family each other had and that bond was thicker than mud. As much as Killian tried to hide it, he was worried for his son. He had done everything in his power to prepare him, save for outright cheating. But that did little to calm the paternal heart. Three years was a long time and any slight mistake during any of that time could end it all. All he could do was trust he had given his son every possible tool and lesson he could and believe Kieren would use them as best he could. When the train finally arrived at the station they stood up in melancholy. Killian walked out first with his son trailing and smiled at the boy's expression.
“It’s incredible.” The castle loomed tall overhead. The air was far colder than Ley and there was a faint fog lingering along the ground. Above the dense forest canopy and up a moderate inclined hill stood a slightly ominous and foreboding gothic style castle. The peaks of the multiple spires looming over the gates were lost from view within the deep dark clouds above. From the sides stood expansive and imposing walls outfitted with various armaments and towers. The full length of those expansive walls were far out of view of the naked eye. The entire view was as beautiful as it was a display of strength.
Killian bent down and pointed at one of the spires. “Look.”
Kieren narrowed his eyes and then rubbed and tried again. He struggled to make out what his dad was trying to show him. It took a few moments but eventually his jaw nearly hit the floor. It was small, but there was no mistaking it. There was a single man standing atop the utmost point of the spire. “Is that a person or statue?”
“That’s a Knight of the Fianna.” His father answered. “The Scar Guards are some incredible folks. I’d hope you never have to actually work with them though.”
“Whys that?”
“If they’re down in the Scar I couldn’t imagine how much must be wrong. They’re mostly here to make sure no one tries to seize the grounds or do something to put you lot in jeopardy.”
“Have you ever worked with them?”
Killian smirked. “Them? Nope. I don’t work this region much.” Kieren let out a seemingly disappointed sigh and then took a deep breath. With a step forward he turned back to his dad. The man who had given his all to make sure his son was as ready as possible, gave his son a sincere smile and held out his fist. “Come home in one piece, alright?”
“I promise.” Kieren answered as his fist met his fathers. “Thanks for everything dad.”
The two parted ways accompanied by the cool breeze. The clouds bore no hint of storm. Nothing Killian had seen would have raised any alarms. All seemed normal. There wasn’t a single clue or warning about the fate that would take hold of the Scar in the coming years. It was a crisp and stormless day. Some might consider it the perfect weather for departure, and the farthest thing from how it would be during their reunion.