“What exactly did you think you were doing with that display!?”
After his surprising success in the trial duel, and the offer of his first gift, Oliver had been in high spirits. He had hoped to find the woman who had given him the runeblade, to return the gift and to thank her for her help, but his father found him first. Oliver had quickly found himself hustled into a small side chamber, his outraged father between him and the door, and he didn’t feel quite so pleased with himself anymore. He hadn’t even had the chance to recover the marvelous longsword.
“It was that or defeat, father,” Oliver insisted. He kept his eyes downcast and his words carefully toneless.
“And you think that makes it okay, boy? The fight doesn’t match your strengths, so you just go and change the rules?”
Arthur Dennan had little in common with his son, physically or mentally. He had the lighter skin tone common in Terast, having journeyed to Elliven decades before in an attempt to establish himself. Oliver's own skin was a couple shades darker, thanks to his mother’s Westerlen blood. Arthur’s hair had once been a deep black, but even after age and stress had overcome the influence of his Adept level boons, his graying hair was still much darker than Oliver’s rich brunette. As always, Arthur wore a simple steel rapier at his right side and an ostentatious silver ring, his own ensouled item, on his left hand.
“I wasn’t going to come out well from the duel in any case, Father. I’d rather the reputation of a rebel than that of a loser,” Oliver replied, unable to keep a faint hint of resentment out of his tone.
“You dare bring up reputation? You were supposed to be the courtier of the family, boy! After this thorough embarrassment, we’ll be lucky to get you into any social circles. What gift did you even get from that foolishness, the brawler?” Arthur spat the last word, making clear his opinion of the most recklessly aggressive of the Warrior’s gifts.
“The vanguard,” Oliver replied, his voice a little stronger this time. He had only just received his first gift, but already, he could feel it emblazoned on his soul, and it felt right. Comfortable. Correct, in the same way that his preparations to get the gift of the fencer had always felt wrong.
“The vanguard, of course. I might as well just throw you into the city guard. At least there you’d do some good.” Arthur paused, as if considering his own words for a moment, then shook his head dismissively. “No, not that. Maybe… where did you get that runeblade anyways?”
Oliver flushed at the question. It was a splash of cold water on the slowly building fire in his chest. “It was a gift.”
“Well aren’t you getting all sorts of inappropriate gifts today?” Arthur jeered. “Who, then, would gift you a piece of artifice worth more than you are?”
“That would be me.” The door behind Arthur opened briefly to admit the woman Oliver had met earlier. In her hands, she carried the shimmering runeblade he had left on the dueling strip when he slipped away. “Pardon my intrusion.”
Oliver looked up in surprise - her words were polite, but they were not a request. They were a command, spoken with the complete confidence that his father would comply.
“What are you doing here?” Arthur insisted, his rage making him ignorant to the woman’s confident demeanor. “And who are you, encouraging my son to be so reckless?”
The woman slowly turned to look at Arthur, as if fully noticing him for the first time. After a moment, her nose wrinkled in a hint of disgust. “You dare to speak of recklessness, Arthur Dennan?” She asked. The gentle encouragement she had spoken to Oliver with earlier was nowhere to be seen now. She barely bothered to conceal her loathing. “You, who sold out your own son to impress the Gerrots?”
Arthur’s face went noticeably paler, and Oliver looked sharply between the two. He was speechless. She couldn’t be right, could she? Yet his father remained quiet…
The woman flashed Oliver a brief, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Oliver. Your father had the clever idea to ingratiate himself with the frontrunner for the Duke’s seat by ensuring that their young scion would have an easy victory in his trial.”
Oliver’s eyes slowly narrowed. He didn’t want to believe that his father would do something like that, but… But he knew his father. All too well.
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me visit the Primal Halls,” Oliver said softly. His words came slowly as he tried to fully understand how thoroughly his own father had betrayed him. It was like puzzle pieces fitting together in his mind. “You wanted me to be as powerless as possible. All so the Gerrot’s would… what? What did they offer you, father?”
Arthur’s face flushed. He may be lesser nobility in the youngest of the Bastion Cities, but he was still unused to being spoken to so bluntly. He spun on the mysterious woman instead of answering Oliver’s question. “How DARE you? I demand your name, madam, and I demand sati-”
“Do not finish that sentence.” Her voice was a whip crack. “You will not live to regret it.”
Arthur’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. The woman let him flounder for a long moment before she finally answered his question.
“I am Adeline Argent, Knight-Gallant of the Argent Order. And despite your reputation, Arthur Dennan, I know even you are not so foolish as to think you can triumph over me in a duel.”
Oliver was pretty sure his father didn’t even notice the insult implied by those words. The older man was far too busy trying to figure out how to backpedal, his eyes darting around and mouth moving soundlessly. Oliver was also stunned, but at this point, he was so deep in some kind of emotional shock that he felt numb even to the revelation of his benefactor’s identity.
The Argent Order. Everyone knew of them. Each of the Bastion Cities boasted a knightly order of some kind, each consisting of the most talented, skilled, or promising gifted fighters in each city. They were sworn to the service of the Duke of each city directly, and charged with handling the most dangerous outsider incursions. In Elliven, it was the Emerald Order who served that role, though they were the youngest and smallest of the knightly orders.
The Argent Order was different from the rest of them. Their knights were sworn to none of the six great bastion cities. Instead, they roamed the vast lands between each of the Bastions and their respective Wastes, purging the rare monsters or outsiders that endangered the smaller villages that dotted the heartlands and the frontier.
Oliver had grown up hearing stories of the exploits of the Argent Order and their Knights-Errant and Gallant, like storybook adventurers come to life. As he grew older, though, he had begun to see the order differently. Their numbers were few for their supposed duty, and they were the targets of near constant ridicule by the nobility. To the aristocracy, the greatest honor was to patrol the Wastes and the constant outsiders that crossed over from the Dark Worlds. In swearing themselves to the Argent Order, the knights in silver had forsaken that duty for one comparably safer and easier.
Despite that, Oliver had noticed that, though many would heap criticism and ridicule on the Argent Order, those words were never spoken to the silver knights themselves.
Adeline eyed Arthur for a minute, as if daring the man to continue his foolish idea of challenging her to a duel. He broke first, his gaze flinching away from her, and she turned back to Oliver as if she had dismissed Arthur from her attention. “I only sought you out to return what I had offered you,” she told him, holding the hilt of the shimmering silver blade out to Oliver. “However, I couldn’t help but overhear your father’s words for his resourceful son. As such, I think I would like to take the liberty of extending you a second offer. Tell me, would you be interested in joining the ranks of the Argent Order?”
Oliver and Arthur gasped at the same time.
“Are you serious?” Oliver asked.
“You cannot do thi-” Arthur’s claim was cut short by Adeline pointing a single finger towards him in a clear, silent rebuke. The gesture was enough, and he went quiet, gaping at the confident woman. Adeline hadn’t even bothered to look at him.
“I am,” Adeline answered Oliver, as if his father hadn’t even spoken. “You showed tenacity, cleverness, and skill in your duel. My Order values those sorts of skills.”
“I only did as well as I did because of you, though,” Oliver said. “Without your blade…”
“Your blade,” Adeline corrected him gently. “Another may have relied merely on its magic, and failed when it could not win the duel for them. You used every tool at hand to overcome the obstacle before you. That is also a trait the Argent Order values.”
Oliver looked from Adeline to his father. Arthur’s face twisted in a pleased look at his son’s clear indecision. That only made the decision that much simpler. After what he had gone through today… the earth would open and swallow him whole before he’d crawl back to his father’s plots. “Your name… you gave your own family up when you joined the Argent Order, didn’t you?”
Adeline nodded softly. “Correct. All of the knightly orders ask that of their members. Your loyalty would be, first and foremost, to the Argent Order.”
Oliver chewed his bottom lip. “My family…”
“Will do fine without you. They are not involved in this decision. Despite your father’s reputation, your elder siblings have both done well for themselves. The Dennan line’s next generation is secure.” Adeline met Oliver’s eyes, supportive and reassuring in a way his own parents had never been.
“And… would I need to swear an oath to you? Today?”
“I expect no oath any time soon, Oliver Dennan. You are still in training. The Order does not accept knights below Adept rank. But we do cultivate talent when we see it, and I believe you will do well as a squire with us. I would train you, give you the experience and knowledge you’d need to succeed among our numbers.” Adeline smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Oliver didn’t even give his father another look. Adeline was right. This was Oliver’s decision, not his father’s, not his family’s. Just ten minutes before (had it really all happened that quickly?) he had been pacing in the hall, brooding and staring down the barrel of a life of mediocrity. Now he was being offered a life of adventure. A tiny piece of Oliver was suspicious of how rapidly his fortune had turned around, but a much larger chunk of him feared to investigate it too closely, lest it disappear like the mist in the morning.
“It is.”
Adeline smiled, and without a spare glance for Arthur or his muted attempts at protest, she stepped to one side and waved to the door. Oliver offered his father one last look, too filled with emotion to manage any single expression. Then he turned and led the way out, taking the first steps on the rest of his life, Adeline close behind him.
#
“I… I can't believe I did that,” Oliver said, sagging in his seat.
Across the table from him, Adeline smiled sympathetically, and held out a cup of tea. “I know, it’s a lot when you first make the decision. And I won’t pretend you made your choice in the most ideal of circumstances.”
Oliver accepted the cup, and took a tentative sip. His eyes went wide, and he took a second, more appreciative sip. He had never had much of a taste for tea, but the brew made by the little high-end cafe Adeline had led him to was the best had ever tried. It was the sort of place his father would never allow him to be seen in, understated but inarguably high quality. It was the kind of place those confident in their status went, rather than the ostentatious restaurants and tea halls that catered to the majority of the ambitious nobility, seeking to see and be seen.
This cafe was quieter than those places too. Adeline and Oliver sat next to an open window, overlooking the street below, and the tasting room seated another dozen or more people, all in their own conversations. Yet some clever work of artifice and design kept the sounds of the room and the street alike quiet and distant. The quiet was relaxing after the day Oliver had had.
“I just can’t believe he really…”
Adeline took a sip of her own tea. “I apologize for dumping that truth on you. I was not even sure of it myself, though I had heard enough rumors to think it likely.”
“Then his reaction said it all,” Oliver concluded. He frowned down at his tea, and added a lump of sugar to the little cup. His family had always chided him for taking his tea too sweet - his father and eldest sister took theirs so thick it was almost black - but they didn’t matter anymore. He was no longer bound to them, for better or worse.
“Indeed,” Adeline agreed.
“Okay.” Oliver blew out a long breath, trying to excise some of the storm of confusing emotions swirling in his chest. “So… what now? What’s next, now that I made my choice?”
Adeline frowned thoughtfully, absently swirling her tea in the little cup in front of her. “First things first. We’ll need to get you a place to stay while we’re in the city. We certainly can’t have you staying at your family’s manor anymore, not after how things went with your father.” Oliver flushed, but nodded firmly. She was right about that. “The Order can foot the bill for you to stay at an inn while you get your feet under you, that’s simple enough.”
Oliver couldn’t shake the feeling that “the Order” in this case probably meant that Adeline would just be paying out of her own pocket. But without his family’s money, he certainly had limited options to pay his own way. He swore to himself then and there that he would be the best squire he could, if only to make sure Adeline didn’t regret all she was doing to help him.
“Do you need to stop at home? Anything you need to get out of your old chambers or anything like that?”
OIiver frowned at the question, thinking of his chambers back home. Closets full of uncomfortable clothes he hated. Shelves piled with dry histories and boring biographies he had read anyways, just to pass the hours. A desk of blank paper and the fireplace where…
“No,” he finally answered. “Not really.”
Adeline nodded in approval. “Good. The Argent Order is not much for being weighed down by material goods.”
“I would like to see my family, though,” Oliver added. “Not my father, but my siblings, and maybe my mother. They deserve better than whatever angry story my father tells them.”
Adeline approval seemed to deepen, and she inclined her head. “That can be arranged. I’ll find a neutral place where you can see them without interruption. We’ll need to get you some travel clothes too.”
Oliver looked down in surprise at his own fine clothes, then very deliberately looked at the stylish and expensive dress Adeline was wearing.
The knight laughed at the obvious thoughts on his face. “This is not what I wear on the road, Oliver,” she chided him, while he tried not to squirm at the way she said his name. She perked up suddenly, as if a thought had crossed her mind. “Oh! We’ll need to take you to a primal hall as well, to get your second gift! I almost forgot. I expect you have one chosen?”
Oliver smiled widely at the thought. “Wind,” he claimed firmly.
Adeline arched an eyebrow. “Really? I would’ve expected fire, given the way you fight.”
Oliver shook his head. “No,” he said resolutely. “Wind.”
“Okay.” Adeline shrugged easily. “Wind it is. Then let’s say… three days. That should be more than enough time to get all of that done, and it should be long enough to find a job for us to take on.”
Now it was Oliver’s turn to perk up. “A job?” He flushed abruptly, realizing he had come all this way, had left behind his family and committed himself to a new way of life, without even really understanding what he had signed up for. “Uhm… would you mind filling me in on the Argent Order? I know the stories, of course, but…”
Adeline gasped. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry, I should’ve done that first thing.” She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders in a way Oliver didn’t think she was fully conscious of, as if she was slipping into a teaching mindset, or maybe emulating whoever had inducted her. She had only slipped a couple times, but he was starting to think that, when Adeline wasn’t trying to put forward the dignified air she had projected at the dueling hall, his new mentor might be a little absent minded. It made him a little more comfortable to know she wasn’t quite as intimidatingly officious as she had come off earlier. “Let’s start with what you know of the Wastes and the traditional knightly orders. That will give us a starting point.”
Oliver took a thoughtful sip of his tea, taking the moment to collect his thoughts. “Sure. Okay, the Wastes… they’re the places where the barrier between this world and the others is the thinnest, so they’re where most outsiders cross over. Were they left unattended, a dangerous group of monsters could build up in and around them, so the Bastion Cities were founded on the border of each Waste. Most residents of the Bastion Cities, especially among the nobility, strive to gain the proper training and gifts to be able become sentinels, and to go combat the outsiders in the Wastes.
“The orders of knights within each city are the pinnacle of those two forces. Most of their members are Adepts or higher, and they’re called on to answer the most dangerous and powerful threats to emerge from each Waste. There’s the Aurul Order in the Arsilet, the Ochre Order in Terase, the Azure Order-”
“That’s enough,” Adeline cut Oliver off, her voice amused. “At the very least, your father didn’t skimp on your education. That’s good. So then, young scholar,” Adeline grinned, her teasing making Oliver flush in a way he hoped she didn’t notice, “how many outsider manifestations would you say occur within the five great Wastes, as opposed to the rest of the Realm? Half? Three-quarters?”
Oliver blinked in surprise at the question, then frowned in thought. “I’m… not sure. I never really thought about it. But I know the vast majority of them occur within the Wastes, so I’d guess… more than three-quarters?”
Adeline shook her head and sighed. “That’s what so many nobles seem to think. The Realm is so much larger than most of you seem to realize. The Wastes, and the cities that patrol them, occupy just a tenth of the Realm’s physical space, and we estimate that they account for about a third of the total manifestations that occur within our borders.”
“A third!?” Oliver asked, shocked. “But… but that can’t be right! We’d be swarmed by outsiders!”
“Of course, the Verdant Wastes to the north account for many more, but there are few even among the aristocracy that would consider that wilderness a part of our Realm. So yes. A third, maybe, of the outsiders that threaten the Realm appear within the Wastes. Of course, if not for the hard work of the bastion forces, those populations would quickly become uncontrollable, but how do you think the remainder of those monsters are handled?”
“The Argent Order?” Oliver asked, disbelieving. “But… there are so few of you! You’re only the fourth Argent knight I’ve ever seen!”
Adeline responded with a small laugh of amusement at the boy’s reaction, and took another sip of tea before correcting him. “Not quite. We’re not that powerful. But we do our part to help.”
Oliver frowned thoughtfully, thinking back to his lessons. “The wardens then?”
Oliver knew that the wardens were the equivalent of the sentinels in the smaller trade cities. Smaller and less powerful than the bastion cities, the trade cities didn’t attract the same numbers of skilled gift bearers that made up the cadres that patrolled each Waste. As the wardens didn’t have a Waste to secure, they instead patrolled the trade routes that crisscrossed the Realm, ensuring monsters, outsiders, and bandits didn’t threaten the smaller communities.
“Somewhat. They do some of the heavy lifting at least, ensuring that what threats lurk in the frontier aren’t too destructive to the main trade routes, but they have neither the numbers or strength to truly secure the wilds of the Realm. The hunters and militias in the villages and towns do their part as well, as much if not more so than the wardens.”
Oliver nodded, his brow knitted together in thought. The Wastes were best surveyed by the cadres of sentinels, teams of three to eight gift bearers that worked together, usually for years at a time, to fight the outsiders that appeared in the Wastes. While the density of monsters in each Waste was generally quite high, they rarely worked together. A skilled cadre could handle most solitary threats or small tribes of outsiders by themselves, so a large number of the small groups were ideal for combing through the often difficult terrain of the Wastes.
The frontier was an order of magnitude larger than all of the Wastes put together. Even if every sentinel in every bastion city gave up on the Wastes and just patrolled the heartland, which comprised perhaps half of the Realm as a whole, they would barely scratch the surface. It required a different approach.
“So the wardens patrol the trade routes,” Oliver said, his words slow and tenuous as he thought out loud, “while the hunters monitor the areas around their villages… and then the Argent Order fills in the spaces? The places where there are no village hunters and no trade routes?”
Adeline watched, clearly intrigued, as he thought his way through what she was explaining. “Correct in theory at least.” Adeline rolled her shoulder in a shrug, and her eyes drifted out the window. She thought for a long moment, then another. The silence stretched for well over a minute before she sighed and turned back to Oliver. “This is not the best way I’ve ever gone about recruiting someone. In some ways, I fear I may have forced you on this path. Or at the very least, circumstances did.”
Oliver watched Adeline cautiously. He hadn’t expected this sudden hesitance from the knight, who had seemed so confident since he had met her. “Adeline…” he hesitated, suddenly unsure if there was a title he should be using for her, but he bulled through it anyway. “You offered me the opportunity I never knew I wanted. You did not force me here.”
Adeline smiled sadly at him. “I hope you always feel that way, Oliver. But… if you’d prefer, I can bring you to a sentinel bar. We could have you signed up with a good, respectable cadre by the end of the day. Enough time and enough success in the Wastes will smooth over whatever feelings your father may have about what happened today. But… if I explain everything to you, there will be no going back. Do you understand?”
Oliver studied Adeline carefully. Even with everything his father had done for him, the offer was tempting. He could return to his old life. His old home. Already, he had been saved from the life of mediocrity he had feared in the first place. He could learn from his sister, he could work with his brother. He could, if he was lucky, win his family some prestige. His father would sneer at him, and find any excuse he could to punish him, but Adeline was right. If Oliver proved himself in the Wastes, it would blow over. Reputation guided all of Arthur Dennan’s decisions.
All he had to do was make his choice. Ignore the mysteries Adeline had presented him. Choose the safe path over the unknown road.
He remembered words on a page, feelings he could never speak out loud. He remembered his father’s eyes, judging him. His mother’s eyes, disappointed in him.
He remembered the day he had begun to burn his most private writings before anyone could see them.
“Tell me. Please.”
Adeline nodded. She saw the resolution in his eyes, and the pain that lurked behind them. “Very well. What do you know of adventurers?”