Author's Note:
I'm not dead o.o Although some might have noticed this because I still read other's fanfiction and review… I just took a brief (really long) break from writing. Sorry!
Because I'm silly, I forgot to realise that some people might actually read this without reading my other stories. It's usually I have select readers that go after all my stories, whereas the general population on the RA site won't read my stand alone stories. So to explain: Kicker isn't dead, he's just retired. Horace isn't an official mentor so to speak, it's like how he had special training in Battleschool from Wallace. Makes sense? Set somewhere after Book 9 I think.
Tarrant followed his mentor obediently through the halls of Castle Redmont. Like many others before him that first arrived, he was immediately impressed with the sheer size of the Castle as well as its strong defences. Compared to Castle Araluen it was still a very impressive structure.
"What was it like growing up here?" The young boy voiced out of curiosity.
Horace glanced back with a small smile. Unlike other apprentices he had seen, Tarrant was usually quiet and solemn and took to listening more than talking. He had wondered if it was his status that made the boy shy or if it was simply his nature. And yet this whole trip to Redmont had ignited the boy's curiosity and the questions flowed out of him without stopping.
"It defined who I am today. I spent a fair amount of years in my childhood being the resident bully, and really, a mean person. I picked on my Wardmates a bit and treated them like they were beneath me." He answered truthfully.
Tarrant gasped. "Surely not to Ranger Will? You two are such close friends!"
Horace gave a low chuckle as they passed by the main halls. The two effectively ignored a lot of the attention they were drawing.
"Will was my main victim, for many years. Unfortunately I can't change the past, and I was a right horrid person to him."
"But, how did it change?" The young apprentice asked.
"He saved my life." Horace answered simply. "I thought I hated him, and he with me. But he placed himself in danger and stopped an angry boar from ripping a great big hole through me. And for that I owe him my life. After that I realised how petty I had behaved, really, treating others that way is no way to live."
Tarrant absorbed his mentor's words with a certain solemnity.
Horace stopped briefly to turn around and place a hand on the younger boy's shoulder.
"If there's one thing I want you to remember from all my teachings Tarrant, it's to trust in your friends. When the world may seem dark and you're in danger, your friends will be the ones to help you out. Do you understand?"
"I understand Sir Horace."
"And you, Tarrant, have to be ready to put your life on the line for them as well. It goes both ways."
With a short nod from his apprentice, Horace smiled and set off again.
"So we are going to visit Ranger Will!" Tarrant crowed with delight.
Without saying another word Horace led the way.
As it turned out, they weren't visiting a certain shabby cabin on the outskirts of Castle Redmont.
Instead Horace led Tarrant to a small office located close to Baron Arald's quarters.
There was no sign or anyway to tell Tarrant who it was they were actually visiting, but once Horace passed the guards and opened the door, the boy found he was sorely unimpressed.
The man before them exhibited the signs of a hard life with scars across his arms and a few on his face, as well as the well-muscled and strong frame shown by knights of the Kingdom. The man was greying heavily, showing signs of being close to retirement. The room itself was also quite simple, without any personal effects or items adorning the desk and chairs.
Horace of course, moved forward to greet the stranger warmly.
"Sir Rodney!" He voiced heartily as the two men clapped each other on the back.
"Horace my boy, it's been a while hasn't it? You didn't grow again did you? Big enough wouldn't you think?" Rodney replied cheerily, taking Horace's moment of silence to take advantage of the younger man and ruffle his hair enthusiastically, much to the discomfort of his former apprentice.
"And who is this?" Rodney asked, his keen eyes turning to the third member of the room.
"His name is Tarrant; he's the battleschool apprentice I told you about." Horace introduced him, spreading a hand wide to clasp the apprentice's shoulder and bring him forward.
"It's good to meet you." Rodney told him politely, outstretching a hand for him to take. He of course knew of the uncanny ability displayed in this youth, such as Horace had once exhibited. But he also knew not to inflate an apprentice's ego more than it already was.
Tarrant returned the handshake and was surprised by the strength of grip there. He nodded slightly, reverting back to his usual shyness.
He had heard of Sir Rodney certainly, but never with as much fervour as Ranger Halt or Will. Rodney was simply a name of the Battlemaster of Castle Redmont.
To say this "hero" of Horace's was a simple knight from another Fief left Tarrant feeling sorely disappointed.