Callum was not pleased with the sudden disappearance of Horace. Scolding the young Vickery when he returned. Knowing that he had gone off to meet with the rangers against his wishes.
“You’re playing their game,” the old knight went on. “And they will always play it better.”
“I only wanted to ask questions,” Horace defended himself. Face still pale from the news he had been told. It’s likely lies. He had continued to repeat that to himself since Vlad had told him his life was due to the rangers. There was no way he could truly believe that. Yet, when he told himself it was nothing but lies, he found himself unable to fully commit to the idea. As though subconsciously, he knew that the ranger told the truth. But if the ranger did tell the truth, then didn’t he owe them a chance to prove themselves?
Anger lingered in the gaze of Callum. “Boy, what did you hear from them? What lies have they spun this time?”
Do I tell him? It was not an easy thing to think about. Would saying it out loud to someone else make it easier on him? “They …” he started.
“They what?”
“They told me my father had hired them for a political play,” he lied. “Had them take out a rival who was after Keep Ankaa.”
“Hmm,” it was hard to tell if the old knight believed these words. “Keep Ankaa was close to the capital. Both in location, and in history. Yes, I could see someone wishing to take that land from your family.”
“I wasn’t told much else.” Choosing to hold onto the secret, Horace took his place in bed. Just wanting the night to be over with. Unable to process his own feelings over what he had discovered. Most of all, unsure if he truly disbelieved the words of the ranger. But why would he need their help? Vlad had not disclosed much about the dealings with Andreas. Mostly that he had summoned the rangers to help in his endeavor, and that he had fought side by side with the rangers.
The details of their mission was left out. Vlad did mention that he had personally fought by Lord Vickery’s side. Calling Horace’s father the greatest warrior he had ever met. Not that there was much doubt over that claim.
Even if he had only briefly known him, Horace had heard from Rohan—his grandfather—that Andreas showed a natural talent for fighting that no one in the Vickery family had ever shown before. Combine that with how hard he worked, and Andreas was considered a one-man squad. Even having earned a run on sight order during a conflict from before Horace’s birth. To this day, people still spoke of Andreas Vickery as though he were more myth than man.
“You’re sure the rangers hadn’t said anything more?” the old knight questioned.
“I’m sure,” Horace lied. Turning away from his companion.
“Very well. Get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Those words got Horace’s attention. Rising to a sitting position, he looked at the knight. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Just rest. You’ll know soon enough.”
Skepticism filled the young man’s heart. If it was so important, why was he being left in the dark? Shouldn’t he tell me? So I can be prepared. The desire to know quickly slipped away as he once more laid his head on the pillow. Mind wandering back to what Vlad had said. Why wouldn’t father tell me about this?
Darkness still clung to the sky when Horace was broken from his sleep. It was not by Callum, but by Vlad. Seeing the face of the ranger, Horace jumped from bed. Eyes darting to the other bed. Crimson stained the sheets. “What did you do?” Before his question could be answered, he flew across the room to take hold of his weapon. He tucked the pommel into his hip, point forward. On a moment’s notice, he would be ready to spring forth and thrust into the intruder.
“Lower your blade,” Vlad ordered. “Lower it and listen.” Walking over toward Horace, he showed no fear in a retaliatory strike. “That man you were traveling with wished to keep you away from your destiny. We could not allow him to do so.”
“He was the last connection I had to my home,” Horace shifted position. Handle now by the side of his face. When he went for the kill, it would be aimed directly at Vlad’s head. He meant to kill when he finally took his chance.
“And it is time to let go of your past.” Raising his hand, Vlad took hold of Horace’s blade. Effortlessly pushing it back to the boy’s side. Blood pooled into small puddles between the two of them. “That man was blinded to his loyalty to a dead man. Unable to see where you belong. I know you have considered my offer.”
“It wasn’t worth you taking his life,” spat back Horace.
“Perhaps not,” agreed the ranger. He still held his grip on Horace’s blade. It would be a simple matter to cripple him. A single pull was all it would take to cut deep into the flesh. Sever the nerves so he could never use it again. And despite that clear possibility, Vlad continued to hold on. “But I would not have killed him had he not attacked me first.”
“An intruder in the middle of the night. I can’t fault him for his reaction.”
“Neither can I.” Vlad wore a smile.
Horace wore a puzzled expression. Unable to see how the ranger found amusement in this situation. Confusion only growing as the faint smile grew into a gentle laugh. “I think I’m starting to see why the other rangers fear you. You don’t seem to have your right mind about you.”
“My mind is here,” Vlad silenced his amusement. “But I must ask you this, what did you gain from holding on to your connection with this man? Is it just because he tethered you to your past that you kept him around? Even I could see he held you back from moving forward in your life.”
“He was my friend,” Horace argued.
“So he was.” Vlad finally let go of the blade. Bloodied hand reaching beneath his cloak. Producing a sheet of parchment that he handed over.
Horace took it, examining what had been written upon it. It was in his father’s script. A letter from Andreas addressed to Vlad himself. As he read it over, Horace’s expression softened.
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Despite his outward disapproval of the rangers, it seemed that Andreas had not carried the same hatred for the rangers as most. In fact, he had asked for Vlad to take Horace under his wing the same year that Keep Ankaa fell. His father had felt as though times were changing, and that it would be better for his son if he were to disappear into their organization. In fact, he had asked for Vlad to taken in all three sons.
“I don’t understand,” Horace pulled his eyes from the page. “If my father asked you to take us in. To protect us, why did you never do so?”
“It is not so simple,” Vlad’s voice held lingering regret. “I had tried to fulfill his request. But the knights of the Keep would not listen. Would not let me prove the request true before threatening my life. And by the time I was able to gather enough rangers to join me in taking you three away, it was too late.”
His attention then drifted to Callum. “He was one of those who prevented me from taking hold of you and your brothers.”
“Callum would never disobey my father.”
“The world is not so simple,” Vlad turned his back to Horace. “People are not so simple. While that man may have been loyal to your father, he is still a man who carries his own prejudices.”
Even if he believed everything Callum had done was done with good intentions, even Horace couldn’t deny that there was the possibility he’d gone against the orders of Andreas. Even if he wished such a thing to be impossible. But as he listened to the words spoken by Vlad, he was unable to deny how true these words could be.
“He was a good man,” Horace managed to speak. “He did not deserve this kind of death.”
“No man deserves the death they receive.” His words had come out less as a statement, and more as though the ranger were reciting some code. Perhaps it was one of the beliefs held by the rangers. “I will not question the character of this man, only the character of his actions. And his actions were dishonorable. Had he not kept me from helping my worried friend, your brothers may have lived that night.”
Horace placed the tip of his blade against the nape of Vlad’s neck. “I will not let you blame the death of my siblings on that man.”
“But you cannot deny that his actions directly changed the fate of you and your siblings. Your father had intended for the three of you to be in my care. For you to be rangers. Instead, you become a wandering fool taking any job to survive. And your brothers, food for the worms. A fate not befitting them, or your father’s memory.
His words filled Horace with anger. Anger enough to drive his blade only a few inches further. That’s all it would take to quiet the words Vlad spoke. All it would take to end the tarnishing of Callum’s legacy. A single push forward. A push that never came.
As he felt the tip drop from his flesh, Vlad turned to Horace. “I grieve with you. Not only for your family, but for Callum. I may speak ill of him, but I do hold him in great regard. For he too fought by my side with your father. Long ago, he fought to keep you alive. And he still fought for you until his dying breath.”
“You rangers truly don’t hold loyalties,” Horace spat. Sheathing his blade.
“My loyalties are for me to understand, and me alone.” He offered out his hand. The one that had taken Horace’s blade. But there was not a scratch on him. Crimson tears nowhere to be found. “Now then, will you join me and my rangers? As I said, I will help to find those who killed your father. But nothing comes free. You will need to earn that information through sweat and blood.”
Did he truly have a choice? Would Vlad let him walk away with all he knew? Or would he wind up like Callum? A corpse of a dead family to be discovered by the maid come sunrise.
“You hesitate. I assume I know why.” Vlad held no remorse for what he had done. Spoke as though Horace should accept that Callum now lay dead. “You do not need to join our ranks,” Vlad tried to reassure the young man. “Just know, joining with us is what your father had intended. I can tell you won’t betray the secret of our base within this town to outsiders.”
“How can you be so sure?” Horace had not intended to, but he wore a smile as he spoke the words.
“Because you are as honorable as your father. I can see it in your spirit. The spirit of a warrior.”
With each interaction he had with Vlad, the old stories of the rangers that Horace had heard seemed to only be half-truths. Though, Vlad was far from what Horace would consider a reliable source to judge the organization off of. Even the other rangers seemed not to trust this man. And while he had always gave off an unassuming aura, there was no doubt the real Vlad still lay hidden under the surface. Horace was uncertain if he would want to see the cracks in his mask.
Their meeting seemed to have come to an end. Vlad made his way over to the window, which Horace had now noticed was left wide open. Like a shadow, Vlad melted into the night.
Running to try and catch a glimpse of the ranger taking off, Horace found only the empty street below. Dimly lit lamp post illuminated the stray cats in search of a midnight meal.
It was as though Vlad had truly become one with the shadows. Meaning the ranger could still be close. Watching over Horace. A fact that he was willing to believe, as it seemed that he’d overheard the two survivors of Ankaa speaking about the choices they had moving forth.
Without Callum, the desire to rebuild his family’s Keep had faded even further from Horace’s mind. If the two could work together, there had been a chance that path would have opened up in the future. Now that it was only him, he found no point in holding onto that part of his past.
If Vlad had truly wanted Horace to choose joining the rangers, then he had made a fatal mistake that night. There had been some temptation in the boy’s heart. Desire to learn more about the past shared by them and his father. A need for vengeance for his family. Vengeance it seemed that would only be found under the banner of the rangers. Now, now the boy grew hesitant.
Vlad had used Callum pushing his own desires on Horace as a point to why the knight was not good for him. While at the same time, he had begun to push his own path to Horace. By eliminating the one factor that might have kept him away.
There is no right choice, he concluded. No matter the path he walked, it was not a path he would choose for himself. If he were to reach out to the king once more, it would only be what Callum had wanted him to do. And he would only do so in the memory of the knight. If he joined the rangers, then he would be playing into what Vlad wanted for him.
It was then that he realized he still held the letter penned by his father. The one asking Vlad to look after his sons.
What had troubled you to this point? If his father had wanted him and his brothers to be taken away, that must mean he knew of the plot to end the Vickery bloodline. And if he had not known the specifics, he had at least felt a need to put a plan into motion.
Horace only saw one way forward in all this. In order to get the truth, as well as forge a path by his own desires, he would need to return to the place he once called home. Keep Ankaa would hold the answers he sought. Once more he would walk into those forgotten halls. Only then would he feel as though the path he chose was the one truest to his own desires.
However, reaching Ankaa on his own would be difficult. With little coin to his name, he doubted he could fund the trip there. Taking work along the way would only cause unnecessary delays. If he wanted to complete this task swiftly, then he would need to find someone who could act as a benefactor. Someone who could aide him in his travels.
Shit. Here he was, once more falling right into the hands of Vlad. Seeing as he was the only person Horace held any connection with for the time being. Unless he could be lucky enough to cross paths with Saphyr once more.
Closing the window, he turned back toward Callum. The man looked at peace. Had he been awake when Vlad took his life, then there had not been a struggle. Dropping to his knee, Horace spoke a prayer over his old friend.
Blessing him under the gods of his family, Horace made the trip downstairs to report the incident. He would be unable to stay in that room any longer. Unable to sleep with death.
With nowhere else to go, he went out to the open fields just beyond Sanghorn. To sleep under the stars as he had done for many years. It was oddly comforting to be out in the open again. He hated to admit it, but he had grown to enjoy it more than the luxuries of civilization.