Fic: For Love or Country
See part one for notes


PART TWO – Civilization and Its Discontents

Gareth told himself very firmly that this was no occasion for sniffling like a little baby. Yes, his life was now over and he'd spend the next two years doing random errands around the palace and he'd never be a very good knight and his family's high status would then be officially over with, but still. The first step to getting back even a trace of his dignity was to just stay calm.

It was just that he'd wanted this so much, was so proud when the best swordsman in the realm had chosen him to train, and the sword was all he'd ever wanted to learn. But, in typical Gareth fashion, he'd fucked it up.

Two years was something of a record, though. Most people not closely related to Gareth got sick of him much faster than that.

The squires' wing was terribly dull. The only unclaimed squires were the slowest, weakest, or dumbest of the crop, boys who were just barely avoiding being sent home in disgrace. They generally spent their time in small groups formed years ago, and as Gareth had spent most of his time as a page tormenting such boys, he was not invited to join any of the clusters of friends.

Roald tried to spend his free time with Gareth, but being squire to the king (not to mention the heir to the throne) involved a lot of work and responsibility and things that kept the two of them apart. It was only then that Gareth realized that while Roald was a good friend and a loyal friend and an important friend, he was his only friend, and that may not have been a smart plan for forming a social network.

He sat by himself, thinking about starting a fight with Cedric. It would certainly be fun and make him feel better about himself, but he had the feeling that there was a limit to how much trouble he could get in all at once before his father decided to kill him in order to preserve the family honor.

Not, of course, that his father didn't already want to kill him. Lord Martin was of another prosperous house and it just wouldn't do to have conflicts. Gareth had tried to protest that being the better swordsman he'd be able to settle anything that came up, but his father had cuffed him on the head and told him there were better ways to solve conflicts.

Simply put, Gareth was in a state of abject misery, and he decided it was probably a fitting punishment for what he'd done. Having resigned himself to two years of torture, it naturally followed that everything had to change.

There was a rustle and commotion and suddenly Gareth found himself sitting across the table from a rather rustled-looking knight. "Sorry to disturb you," the knight said,

Gareth tried to resist the lure of sarcasm and failed. "Sir, I don't believe there's anything for you to have disturbed."

The knight didn't miss a beat. "Well that's obvious considering you have the look of someone who hasn't done anything of use in a fortnight, but those of us who make some claim to being civilized try to make some attempt at courtesy."

Gareth, sensing a challenge, leaned forward. "Sir, with all due respect, I have been led to believe that squires are generally considered to be completely uncivilized."

The knight got closer to him. "Be that as it may, the way I see it you have two options. You can keep trying to justify your lack of basic manners until I forget why I came down here or you can stop talking and I can possibly get you out of here."

Gareth was loud but he was far from stupid. "Consider me stopped."

The knight smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm Myles of Olau. Can we talk somewhere else?"

Gareth stood and followed Myles out of the room. They went up some stairs, down a few hallways, and finally made it to what Gareth assumed were Myles's rooms. Myles unlocked the door and led Gareth into his study, indicating that he should sit down at the table. "Would you like some juice?"

Gareth shook his head. "No thank you, sir."

Myles poured a cup anyway. "That's unfortunate, because you are going to drink this and not talk."

Gareth obediently took a sip and waited for what he was sure would be a lecture. The silence stretched for long minutes before he finally asked "Sir?"

Myles sighed. "I'm trying to think of how to begin." He squared his shoulders and stood a bit straighter. "Gareth, you're brilliant. Anyone can see that."

"Thank you, sir." Gareth said quietly. They were words he hadn't heard in a long time, as they'd been replaced with terms like 'impossible' and 'a disgrace.' He had long preferred the new terms, but it was still nice to hear, in a way.

Myles continued. "I've spoken to the priests. You were one of the brightest students in your year, but in youth's infinite wisdom, you chose to neglect your scholarly development in favor of swordplay."

Gareth glared. "It was decided by all that I could best serve the realm by learning fencing."

Myles glared back. "It was decided wrong. Quiet, and drink your juice." Gareth did so sullenly as Myles collected his thoughts again. "You have much greater uses to the realm than just your sword."

Gareth decided to risk it again. "Such as?"

Myles smiled. "Well I can't give everything away now, can I?" He crossed his arms. "I'm here to offer you a deal. I want to take you on as my squire and fix the faults in your woeful education."

Gareth considered his options. It was two years of squiredom spent in academia versus two years spent unclaimed. One thought of Cedric made the decision for him. "Sir, I greatly appreciate the honor of studying under you as your squire."

"Good." Myles paused for a moment. "Gareth?"

Gareth tensed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Yes, sir?"

Myles smirked. "I don't intend to return you. You can drop the false manners."

Gareth smiled back. "Sir, I don't think you want me to do that."

Myles raised an eyebrow. "I think you'll quickly learn that I can deal with anything you have to offer."

Gareth decided then and there to take that statement as a challenge.