Evidently a light sleeper, Garret rose when his soon-to-be new Lord did and would not be dissuaded from following him.

Donning another set of borrowed tunics and trousers beneath his robe, Talon wandered over to a clear area within the Keep's walls. The inner ward was now empty. Once the threat was over, the people who had taken refuge behind the thick, stone walls had departed quickly for their own homes.

The sun's light was just beginning to touch the horizon and there was still a sharp nip in the air. A few servants were already up and about to prepare the morning meal. Up on the parapet, a few scattered guards greeted their replacements.

Finding a spot near an area strewn with rubble, Talon removed his robe. Folding it neatly, he placed it upon a wooden bench and began running through a series of warm-up exercises, then began his katas.

Fighting an imaginary opponent, Talon moved swiftly in unarmed combat to defeat his foes. Jumping into a back flip, he landed neatly atop the rubble piled behind him. With more leaps and somersaults, he progressed along the rubble-strewn circuit with ease and grace.

As he finished his light workout, Talon felt many pairs of eyes upon him. He looked up to see many of the knights and older lads in the bailey watching him with great interest. From Garret, he felt an emotion echoed by others present. The young lad was in awe and could hardly believe any man could move as he had just witnessed.

Talon shrugged it off. This was but a light routine with which to get his blood flowing. Later, he promised himself, he would have to find a place where he could seriously practice.

Returning to his chambers, Garret asked a question, "My lord?"

"Yes, Garret?"

"What wert thou doing? It looked like you were fighting a ghost."

Talon tried not to chuckle. "Well, not a ghost, but an imaginary enemy. We learn and practice these moves so we can use them in battle against a real enemy of flesh and bone. We also learn to do so with a sabre. We're trained in this from a very early age. Since before your age, I've be trained."

"Where is thy sword, Sir Talon?"

Talon drew a breath as he reached his chamber door. "I seem to have lost it somewhere along the way. Can you tell me how I might obtain another?"

Garret looked at him for a moment, "I am sure the King will present thee with one worthy of thee... Along with other rewards suitable to thy new title."

"Hmmm... So I am to become a nobleman here?"

"An *Earl*, no less," the boy said with pride in his voice and in his eyes. He studied this strange man who seemed so unfamiliar with the way of things.

As the Earl-to-be tossed aside the rag he rinsed himself off with, he turned his thoughts to the Code by which he lived. Never in all my days did I ever dream of becoming a true noble, he thought. I'm not sure what the Code would say about this. I don't believe there is any way home for me. I don't even know how I got here. Wherever 'Here' is. After tomorrow, there will be no turning back, no leaving. With my heart-mate here...I can never leave, he realized as he tied his on empty 'sabre belt.

@}--- @}--- @}---

"Sir Talon, thou dresseth as a monk." The King observed as Garret lead him to the head table to break his fast.

Talon smiled, "Yes, your Majesty, I've often been accused of such."

Motioning him to the empty seat next to him, the King commanded, "We shall have to see about that, young man. I will not have someone of your standing coming to court dressed as a monk."

"With your indulgence, Sire, this is how I prefer. I'm unused to finery such as yours. I wouldn't be comfortable," he shook his head.

"Hmmm, no doubt has to do with a vow of property, I assume?"

Talon smiled weakly, "Something like that, your Majesty."

In a soft voice the King leaned in closer. "I hope thou wilt heed well this advice I now impart to thee..."

Talon awaited these words of wisdom.

"Try the cheese. The goats and sheep here at the Nest help produce the finest cheeses anywhere," he said with a twinkle in his eye as he tore off another piece of fresh bread and added a chunk of cheese.

'Twas a leisurely meal of fresh bread hot from the ovens and cheese. Also set upon the tables were ripe fruits, and pots of buttered honey and fruit jam.

From the King, Talon learned he was expected to keep the peace at Falcon's Nest by the Sea, and ensure it prospered. The land, he already observed, was very fertile -- the fruit and livestock held evidence to this. From the forest he took shelter in, the Force gave him notice that it was haven to many game animals.

Talon's eyes wandered the hall, searching out someone.

The King had been observing this and again leaned closer to him. "If 'tis the Lady Flora thine eyes seek, she is busy this morn choosing the materials from which thy new wardrobe shall meet the seamstresses's needle. After all, I can not allow thee to met thy future dressed...as a monk," he grinned.

After the King dismissed himself, Garret tugged on Talon's sleeve. "Lady Flora wishes thee to come for a few moments, Sir Talon."

Following the lad to the solar on the next floor, he greeted the Lady of the Nest. Scattered about the room were bolts of material of every color. Fine silks and velvets, as well as linens, cottons and wools were being examined with a critical eye by those present.

"A good morrow to thee, Sir Talon. I hope thee had a pleasant night?"

"Yes, my Lady, I slept very well," he bowed.

"This is Maggie, our senior seamstress and her daughters," Flora introduced a gray-haired matron with sharp eyes. Her three daughters looked just like her.

"Good morrow t'thee, Sir Talon." Talon returned the greeting with a shallow bow. This formal recognition brought forth a slight blush from the matron. "If thou would just rise yer arms, I can get the measurements we need to begin yer new wardrobe." Talon stood still as the matron took his measurements with a piece of knotted string and called out the lengths for her youngest to record.

Once finished, Flora ordered a page standing outside the door to bring the seamstresses food and wine. The women each turned silently to their tasks as cloths were flattened out and marked for cutting.

Guiding her husband-to-be out the door, Flora felt a peculiar fluttering in the pit of her stomach and a strange warmth begin to pool someplace lower. Her heart beat a little faster and her breath came in time with his. She could smell the spiced soap lingering on his skin. He presented his arm to her. As she placed her hand upon his elbow as a spark stung them both.

"Sometimes, if the weather is just right, a spark will fly," she explained to hide her blush in the darkened hallway. Somehow, she was certain he could see the rosy stain creep across her cheeks. Again, the odd quiver fluttered inside her whenever he came near, or she found her thoughts drifting his way. She remembered how her body reacted as she felt his well- muscled back beneath her hands during the bath the day before. She was at a loss to explain this.

Talon felt her heart beating in time with his, as did her breath. Only those who were heart-mates would fall into synch so quickly when together. Last night, he finally came to understand the haunting visions that plagued his sleep and meditation. Working through some strange twist of Fate, the Force had brought him to the one destined to be his.

Flora caught Sir Branyon's attention as they entered the Great Hall. "Cousin, I would like you to give my husband-to-be a tour of the Falcon's Nest."

"Aye, my Lady," Branyon nodded. "If thou wouldst follow me, Sir Talon, I shall acquaint thee with all that shalt soon be thine."

Talon bowed to his soon-to-be wife as she excused herself saying she had much to oversee for the wedding feast.

The castellan lead Talon along the outer parapets. From there only a small portion of the land that would soon be his responsibility could be seen. Out in the distance, several stone cottages and farms were seen. Tiny dots of white sheep and grey goats could be seen scattered across the fields off to one side. In the opposite direction, orchards and vineyards could be seen. To the fore, several kilometers away stood the dark foliage of the forest. Behind the Keep was a seacliff standing sentry tens of meters above the crashing waves of the crystal-blue ocean. The salty tang of the seaspray scented the air as the surf called out an invitation. The ever- present seabirds cried out their reply. A pair of sea-falcons slowly made their way out to sea.

Shaped into a rectangle paralleling the sea, the walls of the Keep were deep, and tall enough to view well off into the distance. Made of greyed stone, the thick walls would well withstand any direct assault. The land that could be seen from where they stood was relatively flat. Gently rolling hills rose on the horizon. All in all, Talon saw this fortress was well designed for defense.

The inner wards were large enough to hold most, if not all the families loyal to the Falcon's banner. On one side, the stables were large and filled with fine horseflesh. The chicken coops stood next to a large pen for geese and ducks.

In the inner-most ward, the kitchen and bakery were settled near the Great Hall, so the food was always delivered hot. The pile of rubble where he practiced his katas this morning was near the bake house. Sir Branyon said the ovens were in need of being rebuilt and so the rubble was placed near by to be on hand when needed for construction.

In the outer ward was a practice field. Currently, there were a few boys, not much older than Garret, practicing with blunted swords. These lads, Talon noticed, were old enough to be chosen as Padawans. When asked who these lads were Branyon explained they were Squires -- "Knights-in- training."

Indeed, Talon recalled seeing a several of these young men on the battlefield yesterday fighting side-by-side some of the older knights.

"Thou truly dost come not from this land, do thee? I can tell by thy lack of such knowledge and by thy manner of speech."

"You're correct, Sir Branyon. I come from a land a lifetime away."

The two men studied one another for a quiet moment, until finally, Branyon took their attention to the stables. "The men prepare for the hunt for us to feast upon," he nodded below. "Dost thou hunt?"

"I can hunt if I must."

"Splendid! Then let us hurry to join them, for the day is yet young and the hunt is long." As they made their way to ground level, Branyon offered a little friendly advice, "Even though this be a competition of sorts to see who brings down the largest stag, 'tis always best to allow the King to bring it down." He winked at Talon to drive the point home.

"I understand," Talon nodded.

As they reached the stables a stable boy led out two horses. The reins of one he handed to Sir Branyon, the other to Talon.

"Well, 'tis 'bout time you fetched him to us, Sir Branyon," a loud voice bellowed. The King was already on his mount and turned the animal in a tight circle. "Come, we have a feast to hunt!" The King touched his spurs to his destrier and bounded through the gate as everyone else tried to keep pace with him.

"Come, Sir Talon, we must stay by his side for now."

With a nod from Branyon, Garret was there to hand up a dagger, a full quiver of arrows and a bow, and a spear. "Accept these weapons by which to hunt. Thou mayst have need of them. Thou mayst return them after the hunt."

Together, Banyon and Talon raced their steeds across the fields to catch up with the King.

Talon's steed gracefully jumped over an old tree trunk. As they came down, the steed let out a cry and stumbled. Talon flipped out of the saddle and landed easily on his feet beside the injured animal. Talking gently and with a little Force-reassurance, he was able to calm the beast.

The horse stamped and snorted, his eyes were wide. Talon could feel the horse's pain. Sending a message of trust, he found he could communicate with the animal. Bending below the beast, he began undoing the straps that secured the saddle.

"What are you doing?" a voice behind him asked.

"There is a burr under the saddle that's biting into his back," he explained as he carefully turned over the blanket. Indeed, there was a patch of skin that was blistered. Talon found a prickly burr stuck to the weave of the cloth.

Sir Paul leaned closer from atop his horse to view the burr. It had thorns as fine as a spider's web and shining. "That looks like a silver burr. Those are the devil's own burs. Once it gets on you, 'tis nigh impossible to be rid of," he noted.

Branyon held his anger. "When I discover which lazy stable boy allowed this to happen, he will be taken to task."

Carefully, with a small Force assist, Talon pulled at the offending particle and flicked it off his fingers.

"How did you know the burr was there?" Sir Paul inquired.

Rubbing the horse's back with a gentle hand, Talon replied simply, "He told me."

"Thou talkest to horses?" scoffed another in the group.

"You'd be amazed what animals and nature can tell you, if you only know how to listen. For example, I believe you'll find a small herd of deer near a clearing to the right of the brook on this side of the center of the forest."

"And how would you know this?" The distrust in Sir Paul's voice was clearly spoken.

Talon knew he couldn't tell these men the truth - that he could sense this. They would never believe him. Not liking his only other choice, he bent the truth a little. "Before we met, I took shelter in these woods. I happened to notice the deer liked that spot and would frequent it often."

He turned to the King. "I'll catch up with you once I've taken care of him, your Majesty."

"Aye, I believe that shall suffice," the King nodded. "I hope thy mount feels better soon, Sir Talon, or there will be naught left for thee to hunt this day." Without another word, the King turned his mount and headed into the forest.

As the party left, Talon placed his hand over the blister and concentrated. Soon he removed his hand to reveal smooth skin. There were enough midi- chlorians on this primitive world for him to manipulate in some measure through the Force. He consulted with his mount to discover how the burr got there, but the horse could not reveal any useful information; only that a large human with a dark mane had saddled him. The horse nudged Talon in the shoulder and wickered to thank him for removing the burr and healing him.

An adult with dark hair. That could be nearly anyone here, Talon thought as he re-saddled his horse and went to find the others.

@}--- @}--- @}---

The hunt had been a successful one. Just out of curiosity, the King has taken Talon's advice, and had brought down the largest buck in the small herd they found by the brook. In addition to deer, wild boars were also killed. Talon had the honor of shooting the only turkey-hen to be brought in. He did so in one shot sent through heavy underbrush. His skill impressed the party and word quickly spread.

Again, Garret helped fill the copper tub with steaming water and laid out the drying cloths and soap. "Lady Flora sends her regrets, Sir Talon," he announced as the last page left. "She was called to an emergency of some sort or other..." Gathering his courage, the lad puffed out his chest to continue and spoke a little too loudly, hoping the others would hear what he hoped they would. "If thou wishest, Sir. I could assist thee with thy bath."

Talon knew the boy was trying to jockey for a higher position in the page- pecking order. The boy has chutzpah, I'll say that for him, he grinned. "Very well, Garret, you may stay." He spoke loud enough for the lads lingering outside to hear.

As the door closed, Garret was careful to let only the other pages see his grin. He wiped off his smile before he turned back.

Standing before the lad, Talon issued a gentle reprimand, "A knight is not prideful, Garret. Or as a wise, old knight I know is forever saying, 'There is no Pride, only Humility.' " He gave the best stern look he could muster until the lad before him dropped his head.

"Aye Sir," he responded in a small voice. Picking up the sponge, Garret came closer. "Shall I scrub thy back, Sir?"

Taking the sponge, Talon shook his head. "I'll do that. However, perhaps you can keep me company by telling me more about yourself and Falcon's Nest while I clean up." Hiding a small grin, he finished undressing and settled into the steaming water.

As Talon enjoyed a leisurely scrub, he listened to the information he was receiving from his new friend. The boy told him the way of this world, and of his hopes to one day be knighted and making his family proud. Talon learned Garret would very soon be thirteen summers old -- old enough to soon be chosen as a squire. Silently he promised to take the boy as his Padawan. No, as my Squire, he corrected himself.

Again, at dinner, the King took the high chair with Lady Flora and Talon on either side of him. After the King left, Flora likewise retired. That odd quiver had again settled in her stomach. 'Twas a feeling she was not used to, nor could explain. Seeking counsel, she sought out her old nurse. The old woman smiled as she patted Flora's cheeks and began to cry saying only, "My little rosebud is growing up."

@}--- @}--- @}---

After breaking their, fast Garret once more escorted Talon to the solar. He was fitted with some of the new garments the seamstresses were fashioning for him. When the final measurements and adjustments were recorded, he was quickly ushered out. The head seamstress explained it just would not do for the bridegroom to see his bride's dress before the actual wedding itself -- 'twould surely bring about ill fortune for the couple.

As he was politely shoved out the door, he managed to request a few new sets of tunics in his usual tan coloring. The head seamstress was protesting that an earl does not wear such earthy colors when her mistress arrived for her fitting. "If that be what the Falcon Lord would wish for, let that be as it may, Maggie."

"Aye, mistress. It shall be so." She bobbed a curtsy and turned back to her work. Before Talon could speak to his fiancée, the door was soundly shut and barred. Chuckling softly to himself, Talon again found that warm, fuzzy feeling enveloping his heart.

Branyon escorted him to the tilling field and asked if he would like to practice for a few hours. Talon readily took up the challenge. Knight by knight, each took their turn against the man who would be the Lord of Falcon's Nest. Each tried to best him, whether in hand-to-hand mock combat, archery, or with a sword. Together, they had made a silent pact to put this stranger through his paces; to test his mettle -- to see if he was physically worthy of being followed. At the end of several hours, many knights were worn out, yet this stranger who had single-handedly saved the King's life was ready for more. Silently, the knights of Falcon's Nest agreed -- they would give him their pledge on the morrow.

Talon sensed early on they were testing him and so did not disappoint them. As each took their best shot at him, Talon ran a covert Force-scan to get to know his opponents better. He found the vast majority of these primitive knights to be men of honor. He likewise confirmed something else he had sensed since arriving on this barbaric world. While the levels of midi-chlorians were low, some people had even lower levels. There were even a few with such a low count that he could barely detect them at all. It was as though he faced a ghost. This, he found, was rather unnerving.

As the mock combat-testing continued, the King stood above them upon the wall walk and studied his new soon-to-be Earl. He nodded in satisfaction -- this was a man worthy of the Nest and all its responsibilities. This man would not disappoint him. This man would draw out the Ghost Knight that so plagued this area and unmask the man who would so threaten the peace.

Accompanying Branyon to the common bathhouse, Talon kept turning his gaze upward, hoping for a glimpse of the Flower of Falcon's Nest. This did not go unnoticed. "Looking for someone, Sir Talon? If it be thy bride thine eyes seek, waste not thy time. For thou shall not see her again until ye be wedded on the morrow."

"I was rather hoping to spend some time with her to get to know her a little before the wedding, Sir Branyon."

" 'Tis a fortunate man thou are. For more times than not, the bride and groom do not meet for the first time until they stand before the altar. How is it from whence thou com'st?"

Talon smiled at the thought of the few weddings he attended over the years. "It's always by mutual agreement that the happy couple wed. First, they meet and become friends. Eventually, they fall in love and decide to spend the rest of their lives together, and they marry."

Branyon looked at him with a far away look buried deep within his eyes. "Ah, to marry for love... 'Tis everyone's dream. But, alas, in this land, 'tis not always a love match from the start. Aye, often the match will find love together. But many times, 'tis not so and the man seeks the company of others once an heir has been birthed."

"That's not the way of my people, Branyon. Among those of my blood, a marriage is forever, unto death and sometimes beyond. To stray is unthinkable and not tolerated. It shall never be for me." In his heart, Talon knew this was true -- he could never survive without his heart-mate. He would never stray.

In the afternoon, Talon stood watching squires train with their Masters... Knights, he corrected himself. He saw the older pages also practicing in a group. With wooden swords, they went through several warm-up exercises before being paired off against one another.

Garret was there as well. Talon moved in for a closer look. Several times he noticed the lad's footing was throwing him off-balance. He was lucky only wooden swords were being used, otherwise this would have proven to be a fatal mistake. He frowned and shook his head. The knight watching over the boys noticed this and came over to him.

"Seest thou something thou dost not like, Sir Talon?"

"Yes, Sir Gates. It seems Garret's footwork is placing him off-balance."

"Indeed, 'tis true," he nodded. "Many times I have tried to correct him, yet many times he does not correct the mis-step. I fear the lad may never be taken on as a squire for this. Or if he is, he will not live long enough to earn his spurs." The trainer studied Talon before hesitantly asking, "Mayhap...thou might offer some advice the lad will listen too?"

"Perhaps. You wouldn't mind?"

"Nay, I would not. Pray show the lad." Gates called to Garret who came running. "Garret, Sir Talon has offered to help you. Since I can not help you with your feet, perhaps you will do better with him. Listen well to him, Garret, for what he tells you may one day save your life in battle."

"Aye, Master Gates, I shall listen." The boy bowed to the master trainer as he left to two of them alone on the sidelines.

"Garret, do you know what your problem is?"

"Aye, sir," he looked down and shuffled his feet. "Master Gates says my feet know not what they ought be doing."

"He's correct. Perhaps I can offer a new direction to help." With that Talon began training the boy anew. Starting from the most basic footwork and going from there. Every so often, Talon would tell him to not move while he reached around to reposition the angle of his leg or foot, or his shield arm, or his sword. Together, they lost track of time until another page had been sent to fetch them to ready for the evening meal.

As they walked off the empty field, both had a feeling of accomplishment. Indeed, Garret's problem had seemingly vanished.

Perhaps, all he needed was a new voice to listen to, Talon thought.

Looking up to capture Talon's gaze, Garret held a question in his eyes. Seeing this, Talon gently reminded him that he need not keep his silence. In an uncertain voice, Garret spoke his mind. "I would like to thank thee for thy help this day, Sir Talon. I feel better now that my feet have finally agreed to listen and do as they are bid."

"You're quite welcome my young friend," Talon smiled. "I find I've enjoyed helping you learn. Once you learn to listen to your body and hear what it has to tell you, you'll learn quickly. Just keep practicing what you have learned today and you'll be ready for more."

"I was watching thee this morning, practicing with the other knights. Thou soundly defeated every last one. I heard even the King was impressed! And he is not called 'Steven Strongarm' for no reason! Not once hast he ever been defeated!" He stopped and looked up to the man he secretly hoped would be his mentor. "If I practice *real* hard everyday, will I ever become as good as thee?"

Talon stopped to look into hopeful eyes. He listened to what the Force had to say about this young lad. Even though he was too old to begin training as a Jedi, he still had a great potential. His light within the Force was strong. "Garret, I will never lie to you. Yes, I feel you have the potential to do much good in this world. But, the road will not be easy. It never is. Only through hard work and dedication can you achieve what is right. Do not be tempted to take the easy way. Into Darkness, the easy way will lead you. Once the first step down that path is taken, forever rule your life it will."

"What is the 'Darkness'?"

"Evil."

A small shudder rippled through the boy as the point found its way home.

"Come, we've dallied too long already. We must hurry if we wish not to offend the King or Lady Flora by being late to dinner. I'll race you up the stairs!"

Playfully, the two bounded up the steep stone steps to the top floor and to the door of his chambers. There, they tagged the heavy door together ending the race in a tie.

Dinner was a disappointment for Talon. He quickly learned why it was customary for the bride-to-be to not be in attendance for the evening meal before the wedding. The meal was nothing short of a lewd bachelor's party. The ale and wine flowed freely and so, too, did many tongues. Many serving wenches boldly offered themselves to the bridegroom, but to no avail.

Aware of the custom not to leave until the King had taken his leave, Talon quietly worked his way into the sovereign's mind. With a gentle Force- suggestion, the King decided to turn in earlier than usual. Less than a minute later, Talon went upstairs to meditate and sleep alone in his chambers.

@}--- @}--- @}---

TBC...