Horace:

|| Keep Those You Love Safe ||

xxx


"So you are Horace Altman?" A deep voice asked.

Horace stared up defiantly as a large face peeked over a piece of parchment that had previously obscured his view.

The man that looked down on him had a well trimmed beard and moustache, but looked all together too lazy and comfortable for Horace's liking.

"Well, sit down and we'll talk." The man encouraged, waving his hand forward and offering a cheery smile.

Warily, the young boy obeyed, first attempting with difficulty, to get onto the chair, and then wriggling around on it until he found a position he liked.

The man opposite watched him with amusement.

"Now, my name is Baron Arald, and I am the Lord of this castle." The man introduced himself.

His large hand reached over the desk, patiently awaiting Horace's response. The boy took it tentatively and was surprised by the strength of grip that was returned.

"How old are you now, Horace?" Arald asked gently. He of course, already knew the answer, but he enjoyed getting to know new children who would be taken in by his Ward.

"Nine, sir." Horace answered in a mumble, shyly looking down at his own knees, trying to avoid this 'Baron's' earnest gaze.

"I know you recently lost your mother." Arald said softly.

The boy's face snapped up at that, eyes suddenly beginning to pool with tears. He looked like he wanted to throw an insult, but his lip trembled and the boy kept his mouth shut, refusing to cry.

Baron Arald admired his courage, even when grieving.

"It's okay, I'm here to help. You don't have a father, do you?" He went on.

Rubbing the back of his hand across his face, Horace shook his head.

He glanced up in surprise when a silky handkerchief was offered to him. The boy accepted it carefully, muttering thanks as he did.

"Well now, I have a place for you here at the castle, to keep you safe."

Horace looked up at the Baron, frowning as he listened.

"You can grow up here and learn how to read and write, not many children get that opportunity. You will have a home, and one day, when you are old enough, you can try and Choose the position you want here at the castle."

The young boy dropped the cloth from his face, an expression of wonderment mixed with nervousness crossing his innocent face.

"There are other children like you, Horace, that have lost their parents. You won't be alone." Arald continued.

The young boy brightened at this, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Would you like me to introduce you to them later on?" Arald offered.

"Yes please, sir." Horace replied, trying to sound eager, but still weighed down by his loss.

Happy with this outcome, the Lord sat back in his chair, quietly observing Horace.

For a nine year old, there wasn't much to see, but his strength of character was already present, most children were omitted to the Baron, wailing and crying for their lost parents. He enjoyed getting to know someone like Horace, who seemed to be naturally braver than average children, even if he was very quiet.

"How about you tell me some things you like?" Arald asked him.

Horace's gaze flickered back down to his lap, where his hands fidgeted nervously.

"I like playing outside." He said quietly, but loud enough for the Baron to hear.

"Outside? Well that's good, there's plenty to do outside here at the castle. Is there anything else?"

"Swords," Horace admitted, a small glimmer of light entering his eyes, "and shields, mighty horses, great battles, heroes." He listed eagerly.

The Baron's eyebrow rose at this and he beamed at the boy in front of him.

"Ah yes, did you know I am a mighty warrior myself?"

Horace looked at him dubiously.

Arald chuckled, "I am not making that up."

The boy shrugged, as if it didn't matter if he was being serious or not.

"Well," he said, his voice became less distracted and he leant forward to meet his eyes to Horace's. "If you practise and keep fit, on the day of Choosing, you could be picked to go to Battleschool and become a knight of Araluen." He told the boy.

For the first time, Horace gave him a genuine smile.

"I want to be a knight."

"Oh really?"

"My mother was killed by rogues. I want to be a knight, so one day I can stop things like that from happening." Horace's eyes shone with determination.

The Baron sat back once more, a deep, thoughtful look on his face.

"You do know that being a knight is dangerous?" He told Horace seriously.

He nodded, if hesitantly. "If I were a knight, I could have stopped them from killing my mum! I would take them down, so they could never hurt anyone again!" He exclaimed eagerly, his small hands clenching into fists.

"Horace," Arald said gently, "Being a knight isn't about killing the bad people."

"But knights do kill, don't they?" Horace asked, his expression falling.

"Sometimes." He lied. "But being a knight is about protecting those who can't protect themselves. A knight looks after the Kingdom, and their castle, and the people who need it. Do you understand?"

There was a moment of silence as Horace took in the Lord's words.

"So, I wouldn't kill?"

"No."

Horace frowned, glancing down again, his growing hair shadowing his face so Arald couldn't read his expression.

"But, I would be able to save the people I care about?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

The boy looked up again, a large smile spreading across his face.

Arald inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then, I still want to become a knight." He said, his cheeks flushed with excitement and hope.

"And a fine knight you would be." The Baron told him and was rewarded with an even larger smile from the small boy.

Horace practically glowed with the praise, momentarily forgetting his loss and his situation.

"Would you like to see the other Ward children now?" The Baron asked, realising they needed to get back on topic.

The boy nodded, his smile still present, although it wavered at the prospect of meeting new children.

Arald stood and came around, helping the boy down from the large chair with an offered hand.

Hesitantly, Horace took it, smiling when he was safe back onto his own feet.

The Baron went ahead without warning, and Horace found he wanted to keep up with him.

Eventually, he found a pace that kept him slightly behind the Baron.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Arald answered, glancing back and down at the boy.

"Just you see, I'll be the best knight in Redmont." Horace promised, his eyes bright with determination.

The Lord of Redmont turned his gaze back in front of him, a small smile forming on his face.

It was not the first time he marvelled at a child's innocence.

"I'm sure you will." He called back.


Author's Note:

Don't fret too much about child-Horace, I mean he's nine. I just felt that until half-way through book one do you actually see that Horace isn't some dumb brawny guy, so like Will, I wanted him to have a reason to truly wish to become a knight. And what better motivation than to protect those you hold dear?

- Mae.