Author's Note:

Hello! To answer your immediate thoughts; no I don't actually know what I'm writing here.

It really is the first inspiration I've had for RA fics for a while, and so I just wrote. I'm being a bit of a sook here and am testing the waters so to speak, to see if anyone wants to read this weird little fic I've come up with. If you do please feel free to drop a comment. If you dislike it, then please don't press the review button.

I just felt I had to write something after so long.

Also I apologise once again for my long absence. I really am sorry. I hope to update soon.

Hero

Tarrant sat back on his battlehorse, gazing with wonder at the countryside. His eyes took in his surroundings, acutely aware that few Battleschool apprentices were ever able to move between Fiefs like this.

"Horace, where are we going?" He asked brightly.

That morning, little had been said from his mentor except that he was to pack his bags and be ready to ride out after breakfast.

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Horace mused loudly, as he led Lion, his own battlehorse, ahead of the young boy.

When he was younger, Horace had found the small muses from his teachers and Halt to be degrading. The amount of times he felt embarrassed when Halt noted on the amount of questions he asked, or obvious statements he made were uncountable. But now he was the teacher he could understand their view.

"I, err, sorry." Tarrant replied, dejected.

In truth knights rarely had apprentices of their own. There were drill instructors, Swordsmasters and Battlemasters that taught multiple students at once. But Horace was a trained Battlemaster (although he did not control a Fief), as well as one of the most capable Swordsmasters in Araluen. Out of his own curiosity, he had taken on Tarrant because of the natural ability the young boy had within him. Alongside his ordinary classes, Tarrant completed two hours each day with Horace to hone his skills.

There was another reason as well; Tarrant was an orphan.

While riding through the town before Castle Araluen, Horace had found the young boy fending off an older bully with a stick. It was hardly too impressive, but Tarrant was quick and strong-hearted, even if he had been losing badly. After returning him to his Ward, the boy had told him earnestly of his dreams of becoming a knight.

Reminded of his own childhood, Horace had kept a watchful eye on him. He was glad that his suspicions had been proved correct, because Tarrant was already in his second year and well on his way to becoming a fine knight.

"To answer your question," Horace began, flicking a glance back at the boy, "we're on our way to Castle Redmont, to visit a hero of mine."

Tarrant's hazel eyes instantly lit up. "Redmont?" He gushed, "Are we going to see Ranger Halt? Or Ranger Will?"

As a Battleschool apprentice, he wasn't prone to the usual superstitions of village folk. He was aware of the deeds those two Ranger's had completed in their lives, as well as the tight bonds they had with his mentor. His excitement practically oozed from him.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Horace simply smiled. "Maybe we will, but that's not the reason." He answered haughtily.

Tarrant frowned, wondering who they could be visiting that was more heroic than the legendary Rangers.

But it seemed he wouldn't find out, as his mentor went oddly silent and continued to lead the way.

A/N:

I told you I had no idea what I was writing about. Yes it's short, I think I'm experienced enough to notice that. I do have a next chapter, and maybe a third, if you want...

P.S.: WTB a better title for this .

- Mae.