I was young, back then. Stupid even. I remember being scared of serving. I thought it beneath me to risk my life for my country when it should have been the other way around. I was so focused on myself that I did not see the strain my father was in.

But I also wished I had pushed against King Blayney a bit harder. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided if I did…

Do you ever feel that way about something in your past, intruder?

-

Arwen sulked in her room. She had immediately stormed off after her argument with Cai, stampeded her way to her chambers, curtly told the knight to wait outside her room (or preferably to just leave), and then slammed the door. Two hours later, and she was still sat vacantly by her bedside, her uniform rumpled from her hunched position. She had at first tried to find ways to slip her way out of having to serve. She could beg, bargain, stomp her feet, anything. But the weight of reality eventually set in. Her father wanted her in the military, and as King, her father got what he wanted. That realisation came fairly quickly, but she still sat listlessly just processing the emotions that swirled through her head.

She didn’t want to serve. Really, really, didn’t want to. But it seemed she had to, and there was nothing to do but accept the role with grace and try to restore the dignity she lost with her earlier thromp. A long, deep sigh passed her lips. She stood up. Time to face her own realities.

She called on her lightning magic, a gift that validated the royal blood that passed through her veins. The electrical pulses that ran through a person’s body became visible to her, even through the thickest of walls. It took a lot of practise to even achieve this sensory ability, and her range at first was middling, but now she could expand her awareness to roughly a quarter of the castle complex. Gazing at all the signatures, Arwen was reminded of a beautiful night sky, the way each electrical copy shone among the darkness of inorganic material, but one star shone out in particular. A white, radiant star that almost hurt to look at.

The bedroom door opened and her knight, Cai, looked up at her. His expression was neutral.

“You are a light mage,” Arwen declared, still holding onto the door. “Are you not?”

Cai said nothing.

“Look,” Arwen sighed. “I assure you my behaviour back there was not typical of me. You simply caught me at a… bad time.”

Still nothing.

“Right… I am going to see my father again. If you would?” she let go of her bedroom door and began to walk, circling past the knight as he shuffled out of her way. She almost hoped he would remain at her bedroom, but was disappointed when he began to follow. If the silence was to be her treatment, then Arwen could dose some out too.

Thankfully the guards who were previously guarding the audience chamber had clocked off, and were replaced by two new faces, a relief for Arwen who did not feel like gazing upon the men who had awkwardly witnessed their argument outside.

“Princess Arwen,” King Blayney didn’t wait for his daughter to approach like last time, instead speaking in a booming voice before the guards had even shut the doors behind them. “I hope you have thought long and hard over my decree for your enlistment in the army.”

Arwen noticed her mother, Queen Amelia Blayney, stood beside her father’s throne. As always, the slender woman was donning a gentle smile that accentuated her tender ocean-blue eyes. Arwen had inherited her mother’s black hair but her own sharp facial structure mismatched her mother’s heart-shaped mien. The Queen wore her favourite cream-coloured dress, adjourned with red and gold highlights hugging the sleeves and bodice. Arwen returned her gaze to her father. “I have. And I have decided to… join.”

King Blayney nodded to himself. “I trust that you will serve to the best of your ability, my dear daughter.”

And that was it. No harsh reprimand. No lingering on past arguments. That was just the way King Sion Blayney was to his daughter, who he doted on behind closed doors. If they were truly alone, father, mother, and daughter, the King would no doubt make one of his dumb jokes and laugh heartily before embracing Arwen in a too-tight hug, but Cai’s presence kept the atmosphere formal and subdued. After a brief moment, Arwen’s mother stepped forward. “I am very proud of you, Arwen.”

“Thanks mum. I’m happy to hear that from you.”

“Knight Huws,” King Blayney shifted his focus onto the kneeling knight. “Please, stand.”

Cai looked up. “Only upon your insistence, your Teyrn grace, for it is in my blood to serve with the upmost fealty to you.”

Arwen wanted to scoff. What a suck up! But she wisely behaved in front of her parents. “I insist, then, Knight Huws.” King Blayney replied. “Now, I am aware of the speed at which this is progressing, however there is a mission I need you to attend to and I wish to embark you on your first task for me in preparation thereof.”

“It will be done with duty,” Cai said. Arwen inwardly rolled her eyes.

“Princess Blayney, Knight Huws,” King Blayney continued as if Cai hadn’t spoken. “My first command for you is to gather one Gwyn Myrick and bring him to this audience chamber by the end of the next day. It is up to you two to work together to locate this individual and bring him to me.”

“Gwyn Myrick? Who is he?” Arwen asked. She didn’t recognise the name, nor did her father clue-in on any defining features.

“That is up to you to figure out,” King Blayney answered, a hint of a smile played on his amused expression. “A good Queen is a resourceful one- that goes for warriors, too.”

This could be a pain, Arwen thought. Either that or this Gwyn Myrick didn’t exist, and her father was sending her on some fool’s errand to imprint some sort of lesson or something. Still, she decided to play ball. “If that is all the information you currently have, then we will get started.”

It could be worse. Arwen was expecting military drills, or a not-so-jolly expedition to the Cyfoeth-Helvetia border to patrol. A search mission was the definition of easing her in, she supposed.

“That is all, yes. You may leave whenever ready.”

The dismissal was very obvious, and both Arwen and Cai immediately turned to leave. But Queen Blayney called out for her daughter. “My dear,” Queen Amelia gushed, pulling her daughter into a hug. “I look forward to seeing you mature into a strong young woman.”

Arwen smiled and gently pulled back. “Would you have joined, mother, were it you in my shoes?”

Queen Blayney didn’t hesitate. “Of course, I would. I always wanted to serve when I was younger, but at the time they did not let women in the army. I am pleased you think the same as I once did, however.”

Arwen couldn’t stop the rush of colour taint her cheeks, thinking back to her earlier tantrum. “R-right.”

“Good luck,” Queen Blayney bid them farewell.

“Goodbye, mum.”

Once outside the audience chamber, Arwen confronted her new companion. “I don’t suppose a muscle-for-brains knight like you would know where to begin, right?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Cai threw her a lopsided grin. “I actually know who Gwyn Myrick is.”

Arwen blinked. “You do?”

“Yes, of course,” now that he was outside of the King’s presence, Cai had transformed. His body language was looser, he seemed more energetic and aloft, and a spark of mischief danced in his eyes. “We’re two peas in a pod, Gwynnie and I.”

“And you remembered this before or after you started drooling at my father?” Arwen remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Cai pretended to consider for a moment. “After.”

“Very well, then. Where is he?”

“No, not yet,” Cai waggled a finger at Arwen, something no one had dared do to her in her entire life. “You need to apologise to me first.”

“Wh-what?” Arwen was taken aback. Apologise? To him? As if she were some commoner who had offended a shining general or royal member? “And why would I ever do that?”

“You’re a crass little snit,” was the very candid reply. “And rather unpleasant to work with. I want an apology for your rudeness.”

“Even if it means failing the mission my father set us, you would withhold this from me until I apologise?”

“Yes.”

“Then that is what will happen.” Arwen bit back. “I’ll not apologise to the likes of you. You have also been rude and unpleasant, to a Princess of the country you serve no less. You may coddle up to my father and your little soldiers, but you’re no different than an expendable toy.”

Cai sighed and shook his head. “Gods above… fine, then. I’ll tell you where Gwyn is.”

Arwen waited. “…and?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are having a lark, right?”

“Dead serious. I don’t know his current whereabouts. But I do know he serves as a rather average knight in the army, so-”

Arwen cut him off with a groan. The true challenge of father’s mission began to sink in. “So, he could be on some border station somewhere or in one of the many patrols around Cyfoeth’s territory,” they could be searching for months! If King Blayney expected the pair to seek one unremarkable knight in an entire kingdom full of them, then that was beyond the port of call! Perhaps, Arwen thought, it was the point of this exercise. To fail. A lesson in humility or something akin.

“Not necessarily, no,” Cai replied. “King Blayney gave us around a day to find this man. This implies to me twofold; either he is in an easy-to-locate station in which his whereabouts are well publicised or he is within the castle complex, military barracks, or lives within the castle town walls.”

There was no flaw in Cai’s reasoning, and Arwen was more than inexperienced in tracking down military members, so she decided to defer to the knight’s logic. “We shall start at the training grounds.”

“Right on, your Teyrn,” there was still that slight sarcastic edge to the word, but Arwen begrudgingly let it slide. The sun was already over half-way through the sky, time for searching today was running out.

-cut-

The training ground was flooded with soldiers. Their grunts and cries of exertion filled the warm spring air, intermixed with the scuffling sounds of boots against the sand-gravel floor. The sun beat a gentle warmth onto Arwen, but the sweaty smell that assaulted her nose foretold that the training soldiers most likely did not appreciate the hot climate. She turned to face Cai as a loud thud emanated from one of the cordoned off training arenas to her left. Two opponents sparred rather aggressively with wooden swords, their weapons blurring as brutal arcs were swung. “Where does he usually train?”

She had to speak rather loudly to be heard over the various tones and choruses of thuds and whacks and cries.

“He often trains with polearms,” Cai continued a moment later after reading her confused expression. “Lances, halberds, those kinds of things.”

A man stood in an arena behind Cai cried out after being brutally tackled by his opponent. They both went down with a cringe-inducing slam and begun their tussle on the ground. “Where is that, then?”

“Down there,” Cai pointed. A chorus of cheers broke through the cacophony of sound somewhere behind Arwen. “His favourite arena is over there, where he can face off against opponents with bo staffs- an elongated stick, basically. It’s the only type of weapon they can spar against each other with, where polearms are concerned… too many accidental stabbings.”

Lovely. “Let us go, then.”

The two set off down a main path. The arena was rather well-laid out, with central paths crisscrossing around square arenas where the soldiers could train. Some arenas were empty, others had training dummies and other equipment like weights and pull-up bars. The archery section was more rectangular and offered archers targets at varying distances. Arwen watched as arrows slammed unerringly into the centre of each ring target. Some inevitably sailed past the intended target, yet Arwen was no less impressed by the display of skill.

Another detail Arwen noticed was that Cai appeared to be rather popular among the soldiery, even with older-looking individuals. Greetings were called out and backs were slapped with such force that Arwen couldn’t help but wince, but no one batted an eye at the Princess walking alongside him. She asked Cai between the ‘hellos’ and ‘how’s it beens?’. “Your father frequented the training grounds often, didn’t you know?” Cai asked rhetorically. Arwen did not know, however. The fact surprised her. “They’re used to royalty here, and your uniform masks your identity. Perhaps those frilly dresses you always wear are now synonymous with you.”

“I was asking why you are so popular, in particular.” Arwen better defined her question with a slight edge in her voice, though she suspected Cai intentionally answered the way he did.

“And ruin my mystery?” Cai laughed. “No way.”

They arrived at the polearms section, where two opponents sparred with wooden bo staffs. Loud clacks echoed as each swing and jab was blocked and riposted. In an impressive display of dexterity, one of the men even managed to try and sweep his opponent’s feet from under him directly after executing a thrust. The attack, disappointingly, failed and the fight continued.

Based upon Cai’s gaze, Arwen surmised that Gwyn was not one of the two fighters. Regardless, he seemed to want to wait for their duel to end, so Arwen watched the fighting alongside him.

-cut-

“Long time no see,” one of the soldiers, the one who lost the duel, called out as he approached the Princess and her knight. He was, of course, speaking to Cai. “Where have you been?”

“Frontlines, mostly.” Cai replied, embracing the soldier. “Helvetia’s been dormant lately, however, so I got reassigned.”

“They still busy with the Keep?” the soldier asked.

“I heard the vampires are putting up quite a fight,” Cai smirked. “A lucky break we needed. About time Helvetia gave us some respite. Oh. This is a person I doubt I need to introduce you to, by the way. I’ve been assigned to her for now.”

“Good news,” the soldier concurred. He turned to Arwen and bowed. “Your Teyrn, grace. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“How are you so happy after you lost?” Arwen blurted. Failure was something that would send her into an absolute state, yet it hardly seemed to affect the man.

The soldier raised his eyebrows, his brown eyes shining with amusement. “I love it when I lose!” he exclaimed. “It teaches me lessons I’d have never learnt if I were winning.”

Cai shot Arwen a nasty look. She blinked in return. Was it something she said?

“Is Gwyn here at all?” her knight asked.

“He was yesterday, but it appears he’s got a lazy streak today,” the soldier mirthfully replied. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

“Okay, thanks man.” Cai said his goodbyes and turned to leave, but Arwen had other ideas.

“Tell me about Gwyn,” she asked, and the soldier enthusiastically launched into an explanation.

Cai had described Gwyn Myrick as a ‘rather average’ knight, but the story Arwen was told by the defeated trainee spoke of a different tale. Gwyn’s name was spoken with almost reverence around the soldiery. When he was at a tender age of sixteen, the aggressive Helvetian invasion of Cyfoeth’s territory was still in full-swing, and Gwyn’s home village, Mynydd, was caught in an ambush by invading forces. Thankfully, a good few Cyfoethian soldiers had been seeking overnight lodgings at the time, so the Helvetian task force was met with quite a fair bit of resistance, but it was obvious they were outnumbered and in a losing fight. That was when Gwyn and a group of thirty other volunteers, joined the fray and aided Cyfoeth’s soldiers in defending the village. They eventually managed to force a full-retreat from the Helvetians, but not without sustaining heavy losses themselves. Most of the volunteers were largely untrained and fell in battle, but Gwyn supposedly displayed remarkable talent in wielding the makeshift pike he had fashioned in order to train with. His heroism and proficiency at such a young age caught the attention of the army’s recruiters, but when Gwyn turned seventeen, he enlisted before they were out of the door to try and convince the young man themselves. “No one can beat Gwyn in a lance fight,” the soldier bragged. “Not even some of the really experienced generals in Cyfoeth would want to find themselves against him in a fight. He just recently passed his Sentinel exams, as a matter of fact.”

Now that was a tid-bit that raised an eyebrow. Even Arwen knew of the esteemed ranks one could attain in the military if enough proficiency and talent was displayed. The Sentinel rank was for those who specialised in polearms, and like its other rank equivalents, was notoriously difficult to achieve. Very few could only hope to one-day reach such a goal, let alone seriously consider it.

With that conversation over, the pair bid the soldier farewell and set about their next move. After a bit of arguing Arwen decided that the next best course of action was to approach army maintenance personnel to try and get Gwyn’s address. Cai, however, did not like this plan. “We can’t just show up at his house,” Cai protested to her as they walked. Instead of following behind her like he had previously, he now kept astride. “What if he has children or something?”

“Children? At age seventeen?” Arwen raised a brow. “A bit young, do you not think?”

“It isn’t unheard of,” Cai muttered. “Besides, just how do you intend to dredge his address from the army? I think the Light God Lye himself could walk in and ask them, and they probably wouldn’t cooperate.”

“You’re comparing me to a God?” Arwen beamed. “How flattering!”

“Not the point,” Cai growled. He was wearing a rather unhappy frown, so Arwen decided to stop toying with the man, who apparently was rather touchy about military code and her apparent casual attitude towards it.

“Okay, look,” Arwen finally said. “I will just do what I always do when I want something and officially ask as the Princess of Cyfoeth. Even if they do not like it, people tend to do what I want.”

Cai laughed humourlessly. “That would be funny if you weren’t so serious.”

But Arwen did not understand what she had said wrong.