It's been forever since I posted anything, I'm so ashamed!

Most of these stories I had written/started a long while ago, but never posted them before... I'll update with new ones after I brush them up a bit. Hope you enjoy!

The first is a look at the man who had Ano squired even though he didn't have all the paperwork...

The boy appeared round the corner of the Chapterhouse at noon, as Sir Blethyn had expected, wearing the red and grey tabard of a Novice of Helm over his regular clothes. There was no one else out in the streets at that time of day, in the crippling heat, and still the boy marched valiantly onwards under the blazing sun and disappeared from view.

The ageing knight laid down his unused pen, stood up from the desk and carried himself to the window. There he was again, walking up the bridge to the front gate, beckoning the two sentries who hardly took any notice of him anymore. He disappeared inside, and Sir Blethyn moved back from the window.

It was the boy's punctuality and determination that had caught his attention first. He had first noticed him a tenday earlier, and since then every single day had seen him back in front of the Chapterhouse at the very same hour, constant as a clock made by Gond himself, and likely skipping his lunch to be able to come here and see for himself if there had been any new developments regarding his case.

He had made enquiries of course, and had been told vague and absurd tales of a boy who had applied against his father's own approval and whom Ryan Trawl had not wished to oppose a stern refusal to, much to his growing embarrassment. He had not been granted access to his applicant file however, under the pretence that the training and recruiting of squires was none of his business anymore.

The whole thing seemed hardly regular at all. There were rules, and Ryan would have told the boy about them, for sure. An unsuccessful applicant would have little cause to come back to the Chapterhouse again and again after being duly rejected, and most avoided the place and the burning sting of humiliation its proximity caused. It was not at all like Ryan to withhold judgement and give an applicant false hopes – surely, there was quite another story behind all this.

And so now, he believed, had come the time for a little conversation.

The great hall was empty as he descended, and the sounds of his footsteps echoed unanswered between the marble columns and glass cases displaying the old treasures of the Order, spoils of war and weapons of old masters resting in plain view in watchful silence.

He found the lad soon enough, standing in the half-lit corridor outside of Trawl's office with his back turned to him, as stiff even as he believed himself alone as if an entire roomful of armoured knights had been directing their whole attention at him.

Sir Blethyn stepped forward, making enough noise on purpose to signal his approach. The boy's shoulders stiffened, but at the expense of a great wilful effort he did not turn round.

'You will find nobody here at this time of day, lad.'

The boy started. Forced to properly acknowledge the knight at last, he turned around and eyed him with a look of slight panic. Maybe a little older than fifteen, then, definitely older than most first-time applicants. Not by much, but enough that it might elicir comments from the other squires.

'I beg your pardon? Sir?'

'Everyone has gone to lucnch now. I don't expect Sir Ryan will be back for another half hour at least.'

The boy's shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply. He looked up at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, then shrugged to himself and prepared to go.

'May I ask what a young denizen of Helm such as yourself would be doing in the Chapterhouse at this time of day?'

The boy said nothing for a moment, mouthing silent half-formed words, with eyes wide open like a fish out of water. Sir Blethyn wondered for a second whether he was exceptionally dense, or merely uncomfortable in the presence of people. Neither would be an unsurmontable obstacle, but he preferred to know beforehand what he would be up against.

'Well? What reason have you that was so important that you would take it upon yourself to leave the temple during the day and come here alone?'

'I...' The boy looked around and steeled himself, realizing he had no choice. ' I have come to see Sir Ryan Trawl, sir.'

The boy looked up anxiously at him. Sir Blethyn refrained from rolling his eyes – the slightest wrong move, it seemed, could have driven the boy away.

'And why would that be, if you please?'

'I... I was told before to come back in a few days to discuss things over, regarding my applicant file, sir.'

'Would you not have set an appointment for this? This is how it usually happens.'

'I-I know, sir. But the heart of the matter is, I don't have a letter from my father, and...'

The boy interrupted himself and shrugged.

Some of the rumours at least had had some truth to them, then. He could not believe such meandering, unlawful behaviour from Ryan Trawl, of all people. Surely there must have been something more to it?

'My lad', he said, as gently as possible. 'Without your father's or legal tutor's written permission, I am afraid there is very little that can be done.'

Despair washed over the boy's features, and he looked away to try to hide it. Sir Blethyn sighed deeply.

'Do you at least have a name?'

'Hm, yes, sir. Delryn, sir.'

'Ah.'

That explained it, then. There had been a young lady some years ago, he remembered her well, who had married a merchant by that name eventually. Ryan had doted over her much, when he was still a young squire under his watch, but circumstances had prompted her to wed another much older, much richer man before he had been knighted and become able to ask her himself. From what he'd heard, things had not gone well in that family since then. That was it, then. Damn that foolish youngster for not telling him earlier.

The boy peered up at him expectantly, shoulders tightened.

'Well. And what of your armour? You are a novice of Helm, am I correct?', he said, gesturing to the open eye that adorned the front of the boy's tabard.

'Yes, sir. The temple will provide me with one when I progress in rank, sir.'

'Good, very good. So there is only the matter of your father's permission to be resolved, then. What you truly need to find there is a knight who would have you squired in spite of this small technicality.'

'I know, I know!', the boy answered, a little too tersely for Blethyn's taste. 'I asked Sir Ryan about it several times, but no one would...'

He suddenly blushed and bowed his head.

'My apologies, sir. I beg your pardon for my outburst, I shouldn't have.'

Much better. Sir Blethyn nodded.

'And what would you say if I be that knight?'

'...Sir?'

The boy looked up in surprise, all at the same time rather puzzled, hopeful and slightly disappointed. Sir Blethyn suppressed another sigh, and a bitter laugh. He may be indeed quite old, and not the most prestigious sponsor an aspiring squire could dream of, but for this one he may still be the only choice. And he was from finished, would to Helm.

''You will have to prove yourself worthy of the position, of course. And you will still need to produce references from the Temple and from another knight of good standing as well. But I would be willing to let you squire without the other document, if all the rest is in order.

The boy nodded eagerly.

'Yes, sir', he said, with new lightness in his voice. 'Thank you, sir.'

''You will thank me once weverything is settled, not before. Come back the same hour tomorrow with an assessment from the senior Watcher, and we will look it over. Now shoo, back to the Temple, or you'll be late.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir', the boy repeated.

He offered him a tentative grin, and promptly ran away before the older man would have a chance to change his mind.

Good. Good. His days of dungeon crawling and crypt scouting were now long gone, and likely would never come again, but he was not finished, far from it, and could certainly last a few more years in the Order, despite what certain others might say. He would not be relegated to a perfunctory desk job, not when his mind was still alert and clear, and his strength had never truly failed him... Save once, and that was a mistake any other might have made in his place, and Helm knew that he had been paying dearly for it ever since, and would until his death and beyond.

But he would set things right again, he would make an outstanding knight out of that bereft boy, by Helm he would. I would not be easy – a fine pair they would make, the destitute squire, older than his peers, and the failed ageing knight, subjected to the jeers and gibes of their brothers, but with the gods' help they would succeed in the end, they would all see.