IMPORTANT NOTES:
if you're icky about details of the knighting system, read. if not, just skip this part.

There appears to be some confusion as to how the knighting system goes in this story, so I'm going to try to explain as best as I can. As I've mentioned before, I did some research on European knighting, and that of the Middle Ages, so I'm basing the Zexen system there, with just very slight differences.

This is the typical case for boys to be trained as knights:
Boys who are to be trained as knights start as pages. Around the age of seven, they leave home for the household of a knight to learn the basics. It is during this stage of their training that they begin to know the codes, ethics and behavior expected of knights, as well as the art of small weaponry, and taking care of weapons and armor. By the time they are old enough, or have undergone enough training, they shift to being a squire, usually at around fifteen years of age or so. A squire acts as valet to the knight he was assigned to as page. At this stage in his training, he receives more serious training, learning combat arts and riding. He participates in battle, and assists his master knight. After around five years, if he has mastered the arts, he is ready for knighthood.

Special cases:
That a future knight undergo being page, then squire, then knight is not a strict rule. Generally, yes, this format is followed for boys who were really brought up to become a knight. Usually, these are sons of knights themselves, or boys who have knights in their ancestry. More often than not, they are of noble blood. But there are also those who are knighted because of they showed much potential and talent, or exemplary service to the country and such (even without nobility in their family trees). This is not to say that all knights belong to the battlefield, fighting wars. There are honorary orders of knighthood, too. These are the special cases. Some men even go straight to squire status. Age is not a strict rule, too. Squires, especially, have varying ages. Not all of them start young (the afforementioned age starts at 15). In fact, in most accounts I have encountered, squires are older than teenagers. Also, females can be knights.

Knights of Zexen:
As I've said, I am following these general rules for knighthood--with my own elements added in. To be realistic, not every one of the squires are of the same ages. And not everyone of them had undergone page status. Those who started their training as pages are those who were really brought up to be a knight: boys whose families are the uppercrust of society. In the case of Zexen, since merchants and traders rule the roost in this country, the boys come from rich merchant families, or they have relatives in the government (the Council) or such. They have the connections, so the arrangements of whom they act as page/squire for are easily determined. Not only that, their training is wholly valid, credited and acknowledged by the Zexen Federation. They are almost assured of knight status (unless they do something serious to screw it up) if they want to proceed with it...unlike others coming from the rank of ordinary soldiers who, because of their lack of connections or strings to pull, would have to be truly exceptional for them to get noticed. For the purpose of this story, I created sub-ranks among soldiers, to determine the trainees from the seasoned soldiers, and the elite ones, all of whom aren't necessarily up for knighthood. Most, if not all of those who belong in these ranks are just commoners who have merely signed up for military service.

Also, it's important to realize that squires aren't merely attendants of knights--they are actually well-trained soldiers by the time they reach the end of their training. They are not merely to be identified as the "valet" (in fact, not everyone acts like Louis the squire does...he really does act like a valet/maid in Suikoden III!), but more as "the status near to being knighted". This will explain the feeling of importance/superiority of some squires, such as Borus and company.

Now, I'm sure you've noticed that the Six Zexen Knights actually look young for seasoned warriors (especially Chris, Borus and Percival, whom I have decided to age as 23, 24 and 25 respectively by Solis 475 [Suikoden III setting]). So I took exception again. I cut back on their supposed training time. I can't specify how much, but I'll clue you in with more details through a character I've inserted into the story. He'll explain a bit of background on the important knights, so you can understand what's going on. ^_^

Sorry about the long speech. On with the show!

PART I

Chapter Three -- Wounded Pride

Percival shifted his weight from left foot to right, still feeling uncomfortable. He hated guarding the gates. As opposed to patrolling the streets, the duty of guarding the gates required standing still for hours on end and it was...well, for a lack of more exciting term--dull. At least out on the streets his legs got proper exercise. And then there were the people, too. Although idle chatter on his part was not permitted during patrol duty, the townspeople still could speak to them if they so wished (sometimes, new visitors to the city of Vinay del Zexay asked directions). Many of them were gracious enough to spare trainees such as him a word or two of greeting. Young maidens, especially, were particularly sweet and nice, and were always inquiring whether he was tired from a long day of training and patrolling along the streets of Vinay. Percival sometimes wondered if girls outside the city were this nice and good-natured. Possibly because he was young himself, more or less around their age, that the young ladies often seemed so concerned as to how he was faring so far. Or it could be something else... He fought the urge to smirk, lest he looked like the fool, grinning to himself while standing on guard duty.

It was then that two guards approached him. He and a fellow trainee had been stationed to watch over the city gates, and usually in another hour two other trainees were sent to take over their shifts. The guards usually didn't come until early evening to take over their places by Vinay del Zexay's entrance. But this time, it seemed that two of them had already been sent to take over the trainees' stations. Percival recalled what Jonas had told him earlier, about the command issued by the Vice Captain.

"You two proceed at the training hall," the guard, and older man, informed him. "We'll take over from here."

Percival, along with the other trainee, Lucas, eased from his position and nodded in affirmation. "We'll go now."

He walked through the streets now, after waving Lucas off. The latter was going straight to the training hall, anxious not to be late for Sir Pelize's summons. Percival walked to the opposite direction, towards the bar, where Jonas said he'd meet him. He was waiting for him there, as Percival had promised they'd go together at the Guild.

He was only a few meters away from the bar, when Percival saw Jonas approaching him. "I thought you said I'd meet you there," the raven-haired young man said to the newcomer, as he drew closer.

Jonas, mopping the red curls upon his temples, replied easily, "I thought I was going to wait for you finish your guard duty at the entrance. I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be late. I'm a little nervous about this...I mean, the Vice Captain had never issued anything like this before."

"You sound like Lucas," Percival scoffed. Now that Jonas had joined him, both of them easily rounded off to a corner in the marketplace to take a short cut to the city center. "Anyway," he continued, "I doubt it's anything ground-breaking. We should have heard of something by now, if that were the case."

Jonas shook his head in mock sadness. "Percival...you're hopeless. Hadn't it occured to you that maybe this is the moment we 'hear something', then? This can't be anything but big news. Trust me," he told his companion confidently. "I know this."

Percival eyed him with disbelief and a hint of amusement. "How? You mean you've already heard about something and you didn't even bother telling me?"

The red-haired young man gave a negative shake of his head.

"Then how do you know?" Percival pressed.

"Really, Percival," Jonas grinned. "You've known me for more than a year now. You know I have a talent for sensing these sort of happenings."

"Hah!" Percival sniggered. "Jonas, with the way you carry about, I'm really surprised you never even considered being a columnist for the Zexen Daily."

Jonas shrugged. "Well, you know why."

Percival smiled to himself. He had known Jonas for over a year. In fact, he was one of Percival's first friends when he came to Brass Castle.

The training for new recruits was doubly hard, then. Or maybe it only seemed difficult back in those days, when he hadn't been used to that amount of physical strain before signing up for military service. One time, Percival had the wind knocked out of him from a stray weapon--he didn't even know what--that another trainee was handling. The next thing he knew, he woke up inside an infirmary, the side of his head hurting like crazy. There was a faint scent of blood in the air, and he had one guess as to why that was. His hand involuntarily shot up to feel his injury when a voice startled him.

"You're awake!" the voice exclaimed.

Percival winced at the sound of another person's voice, his head ringing at the intruding vibrations his ears received. Its source apologized quickly in a hushed tone, then, after a while, asked him sheepishly--"Are you quite alright?"

"I don't know," Percival deadpanned. "Having a bleeding head and an unmanned weapon kicking my ass on my second week in front of my commander and not to mention a dozen other fellow trainees, I'd have to say I feel like about an inch tall right now. Which is just fine, really. I appreciate the concern."

The red-haired boy chuckled softly. "If you're up and joking, then you must be doing pretty well now, I should say." Then he sighed. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to be so careless. I'm really not cut out for this, I guess."

Percival sat up from the bed slowly. "So you're the one who's reponsible for my terrific condition?"

"You could say that," the boy admitted, shamefaced. "I do apologize a hundred times over... I'm not really good at this sort of stuff...'ya know, with swords and all."

"You hit me with a sword?!?"

"Don't be so alarmed," the redhead was quick to pacify him. "It was just the hilt, I swear!"

"Just the hilt, eh? Well if my head isn't split up like a watermelon in summer right now, then I guess it wasn't a blade," Percival muttered tiredly. "What do you mean you're not cut out for this sort of stuff? Why are you here in the first place?"

The boy scratched his head. "I come from a family of great weaponsmiths, you see. My mother's father served as a knight, too. I have several distant uncles who followed the same path. It just seemed fitting to my parents that I end up somewhere along that line."

"Uhh--"

"Not to say that they forced me on this," he supplied eagerly. "I really did want to be a soldier when I was a kid. I've read about knights and the battles they win, and I thought it would be pretty cool to be one of those guys. I even did a lot of research on the greatest knights of Zexen." He smiled, and then shrugged. "Well now that I'm here, it isn't as I've expected. I suppose my father would be disappointed. He got me a recommendation to get in here easily...not that it was hard to acquire, anyway. Like I said, my mother's side has knights in the family."

Percival threw him a puzzled glance, when finally managed to get a word in edgewise. "Recommendation?" he echoed.

"Well, yes. Actually, it came from my grandfather. That kind of recommendation gets you noticed around here, though my parents signed the missive, too, seeing as they've earned their reputations as blacksmiths." He shrugged again. "I wanted to be a knight, and this is the best help I'm gonna get, 'cause my swordsmanship needs a lot of work and I'm awful atop a horse. What about you?"

"I..." Percival faltered. He honestly didn't know what to say, and his confidence died on his lips. He fought the urge to cast his eyes downward in embarrassment. "I don't have a recommendation," he finished lamely.

"Oh," the boy said, after an awkward pause. He frowned slightly in embarrassment. "Well it's not like a real requirement into getting here. Like I said, it's just something to get you noticed, especially if you're wanting to go all the way to knighthood..."

"Well, I do want to be a knight."

"But I don't think you'd be really needing it," the boy hastily ammended. "Besides, I've seen you a couple of times during training. You don't need the extra help like I do."

Percival's spirits had not been on their highest to begin with, after arriving at Brass Castle a whole fortnight before that incident. After hearing that bit of news from a fellow trainee, however, his mood had then gone considerably lower. That first meeting with the talkative, redheaded boy who was actually Jonas opened a door of information for him. A whole lot of information, in fact, for Jonas had been true to his ambitions as a child. As a result, it was like he kept a personal profile of each of the aspiring knights and soldiers within the compounds of Brass Castle. He kept close tabs on everyone who was anyone, even trainees who belonged to different companies altogether. It was almost like being friends with a walking knights' encyclopedia. What he lacked for skill in combat, he made up with his knowledge of knighthood history, as well as his skill for taking good care of weapons and armor (which he claimed to have learned from his family's business).

"Hey."

Percival snapped back to the present, Jonas' poking his side interrupting his train of thought. "What?" he asked.

Jonas merely laughed. "Nothing. You were being way too silent."

"I was just thinking."

"Far it be for me to disturb you...well, we're here anyways," he pointed out.

True enough, the two had reached the vast training hall. They looked about them in amazement. They had never chanced the training hall within the walls of the Council much. Most of their training went on within Brass Castle, but when they were in the capital, they were sometimes given the privelege of practicing exclusively within the training field of Vinay del Zexay. But neither Jonas nor Percival had ever seen the hall with this much soldiers. More than half of the men present were unfamiliar to Percival, although he was able to recognize some of the trainees. Many of them were from older batches; still trainees, nonetheless. He had been training for over a year now, but he was mostly stuck with three or four other companies of beginners back at Brass Castle, although he had already met more than a few individual veteran soldiers.

"Wow," Jonas remarked. "Look at this place."

Percival nodded his agreement absently, his eyes roaming the vast expanse of the training field. Jonas did the same, watching the same unfamiliar faces around him, and feeling intimidated as the seconds ticked by. Neither of them noticed that they were still standing in front of the entrance, unmoving.

Jonas tried to diminish the anxiety creeping up on his nerves, but to no avail. He could very well see that most of the men present now were far more experienced soldiers, veterans compared to mere trainees like themselves. With a quick eye, he was able to discern many of them. A few were especially high profile. He knew who they were; had heard of them, and knew the recognition their kind received for their service. He tried hard not to appear too excited at the prospect of being in the same gathering as these men, but even staring proved to require much effort on his part. Suddenly, he felt conscious about his trainee uniform; the long-sleeved black tunic topped by an orange vest stood out from the sea of plain black garb and silver armor. He turned now to his friend, glancing at his muted expression and realizing with a bit of disappointment that his friend didn't seem as anxious as he felt inside. In fact, Percival's face merely reflected puzzlement and just the smallest touch of curiousity.

"There are a few trainees around," Percival observed.

"Well not many of us came to Vinay del Zexay anyway, remember?" Jonas said. "The majority of trainees are still at the Brass Castle."

Percival nodded. "I don't know most of these people," he admitted.

His friend chuckled. "I shouldn't blame you. We rarely see these faces, anyway, with the way they keep trainees cooped up in Brass Castle. These men," he gestured with a single hand, "have all the action an aspiring soldier could hope for."

"They don't look like trainees, that's for sure."

"Look," Jonas pointed out to a section of the field where a couple of men clustered near a weapons rack. "Those are squires. I've never really met them myself. We've met a couple of elite soldiers that even came from the Captain's units during past training days...but you know they never really let us practice with the squires."

"You may be right, after all. This could be something really important."

The redhead shot him a knowing look that he chose to ignore. In the next breath, Percival found his friend pushed roughly to the side. He was too surprised by Jonas' sudden movement that he could only glare at the backs of two other soldiers as he helped Jonas regain his balance. "Stupid trainees," one of them muttered, as the other laughed, and said something that sounded "--like idiots".

"The hell--" Percival started.

"Don't mind them," Jonas quickly grabbed his friend's arm to stop further actions. "I'm okay. I was in the way, after all."

"Did you hear what they said?!?" Percival said, an incredulous expression wiping away his usually smiling demeanor. "What's their problem? They could've simply asked us to move out of the way!"

"It's fine, really, Percival," Jonas insisted. He dragged his friend away from where they were originally standing to get their minds off the rude encounter.

"Boy," the raven-haired boy muttered. "What a bunch of arrogant imbeciles."

Jonas merely shook his head. The last thing he wanted was get into trouble with these people. Already, they had gathered notice of loitering soldiers who looked older than they did, grazing looks at their black and orange uniforms with a detached, subtly condescending air. He felt uncomfortable with the unwanted attention; the last thing he wanted was a fight with any of these men. His eyes landed on a rather secluded spot, and he pointed it out to his friend. "Let's go there," he told him.

Percival nodded and followed Jonas wordlessly. He seemed a bit perturbed with his surroundings, not oblivious to the fact that their presence was drawing attention wherever they passed. There were a few trainees gathered around as well, apart from the two of them; must they stare like they hadn't seen trainees before? Or perhaps because this was only the first time trainees were allowed to be in the same training grounds they were occupying? He was also bothered with the unexpected show of hostility just a while ago. The fact the two unknown soldiers they had bumped into had referred to them as "stupid trainees" with an emphasis on their lower rank irritated him. True, because they belonged to the lowest rank of soldiers (and they weren't even officially considered as such), they were given their share of ego-deflating moments. Plenty of times, in fact. But Percival had met many others who were above their status and they had much less arrogance.

He broke away from his inner ranting when he overheard a few remarks from casual observers along their way. Jonas shot him a meaningful glance, and he wisely chose to ignore the musings spoken aloud. Many of these were harmless, after all...he realized that most of the soldiers were merely speculating as to why there were trainees such as themselves around. He himself wondered what they were doing here, and why soldiers of varied ranks came to gather at this place.

As they came to a stop, a man approached them. He was wearing chain mail, the spurs by his feet blackened and a bit muddied, and his forehead was moist with sweat. Jonas noted these details, and realized with a start that the stranger must be one of the soldiers who had just arrived from the recent border expedition. "Excuse me," the man said, his voice deep, yet betraying a hint of exhaustion.

"Yes sir--?" Jonas prompted.

The man shook his head and waved away the formalities. "I am Lanchet. Just that will do. Anyway," he continued, "There seems to be a lot of soldiers about, including you trainees. I just came back from a gathering with the Grasslanders, so I haven't heard what this is all for. Have you boys any idea?"

Both Percival and Jonas gave a negative shake of their heads. "It was an order from Sir Pelize that all trainees present within the city attend this summons," he supplied helpfully. "We hadn't even known that there would more than just trainees around until we came here ourselves."

"I see," the man said, his eyes turning thoughtful. "Thank you." With a slight nod, the man turned his heel and walked away.

Jonas heaved a sigh of relief, and turned to Percival with a small smile. "See? That one wasn't so bad."

"Well it's not like--"

"Get out of the way."

Percival and Jonas whirled around in surprise, and saw a tall young man scowling at them. Percival frowned in response to the rude interruption, but Jonas caught his eye. He quickly stepped forward before his raven-haired friend could say anything untoward, and said, "I'm sorry, I thought we were quite out of the way over here. You could have asked a little more nicely." He smiled, if a little weakly.

The man narrowed his eyes. "I could, except that I don't have all day and you trainees have been scattered all over the place, wandering around like half-wits," he spat out.

Another fellow came up behind this man, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dunstan," he said quietly, as if to cool his friend's temper.

The man called Dunstan glanced at his friend briefly before turning his head back to Percival and Jonas. "It hasn't been a good day, Myriam," he said, speaking to his friend, but looking at the two strangers before him. "It's not enough that we get dragged in here, five minutes just after coming home from the Grasslands. Another five minutes inside the training field, and I almost got hit by a trainee's wayward lance. I came home unscathed from hostile territory and then almost got myself killed by some clumsy fool's incompetence--where's the justice in that?" His ranting finished, he turned his full attention now to the two, and his scowl darkened even more so. "And now I find two more trainees who aren't supposed to be here taking up the squire's area."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Jonas said, "but we trainees are here on orders from Vice Captain Pelize."

"And we didn't even know this was the squire's area," Percival cut in, a frown marring his handsome features.

Dunstan grunted. "Figures. Hell of a lot of things they teach trainees nowadays."

"Dunstan," the other man, Myriam, spoke up again, this time more urgently. "Just leave them alone. You say you don't want to be bothered by trainees, and here you are wasting your time with them." Myriam raised a single brow in question. "We have better things to do."

"I think we'd better go," Jonas said quietly, speaking more for the benefit of the two squires, rather than Percival. He could sense his friend's simmering anger, and it wouldn't be good now to be get into some trouble with a couple more rude squires. He didn't want to find out what they could do. Hell, he didn't want to see Percival pissed off, either. His friend was usually good-natured, and came off as easy-going...but you never know with their types.

Percival decided to stay quiet once again, his face assuming an inscrutable expression as he walked beside Jonas. "You know," he said mildly, "The next time they come around, I'm not so sure I can keep from chopping their heads off. And may the goddess forbid you to stop me when the opportunity presents itself."

"And what good would that do you?"

"A worthwhile amusement, if not satisfaction."

Jonas raised a single eyebrow. "You don't know that. Besides, who knows if they can pummel us to our deaths?"

"I think I'd be willing to find out," Percival replied dryly.

"Well I don't. These are squires we're talking about. The lot of them has already assissted knights into battle. You can carry off on your own, 'cause you're good, Percival, but I'm not in the same league as you are." Jonas hated to admit it, but he was one of the worst trainees in their company, recommendation or no. Several other trainees who had the same help he did had already advanced to higher ranks a few months ago, but not him. He got his share of digs about his lack of swordsmanship skills. In fact, though his friend was quite oblivious about it, the only reason why he wasn't bothered so much or at least half the time, was because of Percival. Percival was not only an excellent swordsman and rider who earned the respect of his fellow trainees; he was pretty easy to get along with. Others didn't bother him as much when they realized the two were good friends. Unfortunately, Jonas didn't have the same rapport with other trainees, who regarded him as something of a geek.

The two slowed to a halt as they looked about them. There was nowhere else they could sit quietly without being bothered. They had unknowingly wandered back into another squire's area, to their chagrin. Percival was not too keen about seeing the two squires they bumped into earlier, especially the man called Dunstan, so he and Jonas hurried to pass, but they could not help overhearing a few more conversations. And seeing faces they had taken pains to avoid, as it turned out. Much to their surprise, it was the squire Dunstan again...but his back was to them, and he talking with a couple of other men who looked liked squires, as well.

"...maybe we ought to teach them a lesson," Percival heard Dunstan say.

"Perhaps they really are here to train with us," he heard the companion, Myriam, say.

One of them laughed, a boy with a head of light-blonde hair. "You're kidding!" he heard the boy exclaim.

Myriam shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe they wanted new people for us to spar with?"

The boy shook his head. "But what can they do? They're just trainees."

Another of the men laughed. "Say we take them on?"

"Don't be absurd, Gaviel," the boy scoffed. "You shouldn't even waste your time. They've probably got a lot of catching up to do."

Percival stopped his stride abruptly. He had heard enough. The word "stupid" and its numerous other synonyms had been far overused for just one afternoon. Now being called "incompetent" completed his day. He turned slowly, imperceptibly, towards the squires.

Jonas was alarmed, and he moved to catch his friend's arm, but was met with a brief, cold look.

He let him go.

Percival was just a few meters away from them, when he spoke in a clear, distinct voice--"That sounds like a challenge."

Four men turned around to face him, surprise written across their faces. A flash of recognition went through Dunstan's eyes as they fell on the figure of the boy that stood before him now. His face darkened to a scowl. But Percival paid him no mind, and stared pointedly at the blonde-haired boy, unblinking.

The boy frowned at him. His furious brown eyes swiftly took note of the trainee's garb. It was a subtle scrutiny, but Percival noticed it. The boy's eyes now returned his own pointed stare, directly, measure for measure. "What did you say?" he asked, demanding to know if he had heard right.

Percival's lips curved into a tight smile as he obliged. "I said, that sounded like a challenge." He tilted his head to one side, locks of his raven hair falling over his face and covering his eyes. "So now squires have ear troubles, too?"

The other boy's eyes narrowed at the deliberate jab. "Are you challenging me?" he asked menacingly. His friends moved to his side, but he gestured for them to stay put. "Don't," he told them.

It was Dunstan who spoke up, his expression dark as he glared back at Percival. "The boy's asking for a fight."

Percival looked at them for a moment, then brandished the sword on his side, the action itself more telling than words. The young, blonde squire eyed the unsheathed weapon balefully before grabbing at his side and taking out his own sword.

"Sounds to me like you were the one asking for it," the raven-haired boy said smoothly. "I'm just here to oblige. After all, I'm just a trainee."

"Yes you are. So why don't you back out now before you get hurt?" the squire taunted.

Percival shook his head and laughed. "A wise person once told me never to count your chickens 'til they're hatched." His smile fell slightly, and his eyes turned serious. "It would be wise for you to follow this advice, squire. So why don't you put your sword where your mouth is?"

The squire walked towards him in a slow, deliberate manner. Stopping a few feet away, he took a careful stance and lifted his sword. "What is your name?" he asked.

"It would be improper for me to introduce myself, when someone of higher ranking such as yourself is not known to me. I'll give you mine, if you give me yours. What is your name?"

The squire eyed him intently, silently contemplating the taunt. Seconds ticked by.

"It's Lord Borus to you."

Percival's smile widened upon hearing the reply. "Borus, is it? That's good enough for me." He too, lifted his sword. "Mine is Percival."

"Hmph," Borus grunted. "Enough talk, trainee. We fight now!"

He swung his broadsword in a long, downward slash with a single hand, and was more than surprised when his blade was met with his opponent's. The trainee blocked the attack with both hands gripping his own weapon, his smug look wiping the shocked expression on the squire's face.

Borus quickly withdrew his sword swiftly from the block to attack once again, his blade sliding into an upward diagonal slash. Percival had jumped out of the way quickly, defending himself against four more consecutive blows from the squire's sword. His teeth clenched in his effort to deflect the powerful strikes that came one after another. The Lord Borus was a strong swordsman, and the harsh blows that fell heavily and repeatedly against his blade proved it. Soon, Percival was backed a few paces from where they once stood.

'The squire may be stronger,' Percival thought to himself, 'But he's not as quick.' In a blink of an eye, he parried the blows that came toward his direction, once again almost catching the skilled squire off-guard.

Borus gritted his teeth in frustration. He should not have underestimated his opponent. With deft strokes, the trainee regained the distance he took back, his feet swift and agile, and his armed hand more so. Borus was aghast at finding himself alternately defending with his sword, his own attacks parried with such speed that he was disgusted to admit amazed him. 'How can a trainee be this good?', he thought to himself, cursing. It was like some absurd joke. If it were someone older, there could be some valid explanation, at least. But this raven-haired boy looked as young as he was.

The trainee now faked a thrust of his blade to the side, narrowly missing Borus' arm, and exposing an unprotected back that Borus jumped at the chance to strike. Percival pulled his arm back quickly, however, pushing the hilt of his sword at his opponent's hand, forcing the squire to jump back and retaliate with a similar blow with his own weapon without losing momentum.

'He's too fast. I must concentrate.'

The two were unaware of the small crowd that had gathered near their fight scene. A few minutes into the swordfight, several soldiers and squires had already taken notice. It was truly a curious sight to see a trainee and a squire practicing with their swords against each other...or was it really practice? As the duel increased its heated pace, frenzied sounds of steel clashing against steel brought them the attention of all who were near. The other soldiers who had been practicing earlier had forgotten to resume their training at the sight of the two engaged in a splendid display of sword skill. The other squires had began to cheer for Borus, while the rest of them watched the raven-haired boy, who called himself Percival, curiously.

The boy's face was unfamiliar...unlike the young squire's, who was easily known by his peers as one of the youngest men to have ever achieved his rank. Even back in the Academy, the young Borus had been known for his excellent skill with the sword.

Now here was this trainee, a teenage boy, who challenged him. The onlookers realized that this was not something they get to see everyday and avidly watched from the sides.

The other trainees had gathered around, as well, but they were much more silent than everyone else who were watching the fight. Most of them stared incredulously, awestruck. Jonas stood among them and the expression on his face was anxious. Long minutes had passed, and still he could not believe what he was seeing. His friend had not just challenged Borus Redrum. No, he corrected himself. His friend was just fighting Borus Redrum.

The said squire now growled low, and brought his sword high, preparing to strike overhead. Once again, Percival attempted to block with his sword, but Borus had anticipated the move. In one smooth swing, he ducked low and slid his sword downward to escape the steel barrier before pushing his weapon upward. The squire's blade snaked gracefully up Percival's shoulder cutting a thin layer of fabric from his uniform. Were it not for quick reflexes, he would've torn more than just the surface of his clothes. As it was, he jumped back again, unminding his narrow miss, and prepared to disarm Borus when suddenly--

"What's going on here?"

The simple question had pierced through the noise coming from the avid audience. Borus had not even heard it, yet it was voiced in such a calm, deliberate manner that it did not need further emphasis nor increased volume. He noticed the obvious shift in the small crowd that had gathered around them. It had parted, which was one reason why the question rang clear within the vicinity. Percival had heard it, and he stopped himself in mid-swing to look for the source of the commanding voice. There was no mistake.

It was Sir Pelize, Vice Captain of the Zexen Knights, his armor glinting brightly under the late afternoon sun. He wore no helmet. Not even an amused smile.

His gait was brisk, and his presence commanding. The two boys had long stood apart from each other, trying to supress their lack of breath and calming their own frenzied nerves as they watched the Vice Captain approach.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The words died on his throat. Percival found that he could not come up with an explanation.

And neither could Borus, who stammered confusedly. "S-Sir," he began.

Gaviel stepped away from the crowd, and intervened. "Sir Pelize, Borus and this young man were just practicing..."

Pelize. "Is that so?" He turned to Borus and Percival, and eyed them doubtfully. "A squire and a trainee?"

"Sir--"

The Vice Captain brushed off further attempts of explanation and inspected the clean cut of a blade made against the trainee's garb. "Practicing with real swords...and without proper armor." His expression darkened. "You could have been injured. I require practice of logic and precaution among my soldiers because ghosts don't fight. A dead person is useless in battle. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Borus and Percival promptly answered.

"You'd do well to curb your brashness, the both of you." He was silent, eyeing them critically for a moment before speaking up again. "Perhaps it is just as well," he said. "That I have summoned a meeting for all of you today may have been fortuitious. It is time we get down to more serious matters."

A low murmur rippled among the soldiers. Pelize gestured for the crowd to be silent.

"You may have been wondering what this is all about. We'll get to that," the Vice Captain said. "You see, there has been a slight change of plans regarding recruitment and promotion of soldiers this year, since the proposal of the new constitution and treatise...which I am sure you are already aware of by now. It seems, the Council has new orders." The Vice Captain smiled sardonically, and some of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably from their positions upon hearing this announcement. He continued, "They have several demands that the Knighthood must meet. Unfortunately, the timing cannot be worse, as the influx of recruits has not been up to par with the number of obligations they have been issuing us.

"And so the Captain and I have decided on a quick, yet efficient solution. It requires all qualified troops to report to Brass Castle by the end of next week--even those who have yet to complete their eighteen months of training will have to go. The same goes for squires. And knights alike." The hushed whispers rose in volume at this reveleation, and several soldiers looked askance about each other. "My participation--supervision, rather, is included in this as well." Pelize's smile broadened, and his eyes searched through the dozens of of faces with varying reactions to his news. "Which is why I have personally delivered this command. My return to the headquarters is tomorrow.

"You shall be further informed of the details when you arrive at Brass Castle. There are going to be changes in the units you have been assigned to, as well as the commanders who shall be overseeing this new training program," More looks of surprise met the Vice Captain's gaze, so he cheerfully added: "And I am quite certain that most of you shall find the new arragements...interesting."

His eyes descended particularly on the squires, before hovering finally on the small crowd of trainees.

"The first five units shall be expected to arrive in Brass Castle in no less than three days. Make haste all necessary preparations for your departure."

Author's notes:

I know you're bored. I'm sorry, I'm really dragging this story, but I promise to quicken the pace for the next chapters. Yes, you'll be seeing the rest of the Zexen Knights. ^_^ It's just that all these introductory chapters were a NECESSARY EVIL. ^^;

Exhile87 - thanks for pointing that out! I already made the change.
Crystal - Nope, Leo is even younger than that in this fanfic. He's around 20 years old here. If you like, you can read an explanation on the knighting system of this story in a disclaimer at the beginning.
Ayanami - it looks like we agree on the same things. ^^ I don't like to give away spoilers, so... hehehe...wait and see.
marionette - here's a longer chapter. ^_-

You know, I'll let you in on a little secret...one that may give you a clue as to how I will be writing my suikoden stories--I never liked Borus Redrum. ^^;; Ever. But he will be one of the most important characters in the story which A Knight is a prequel to, so that means he's a pivotal character here, too. Ah well. I have to be extremely kind and generous to Borus because of this.

Coming up in the next chapter:
The plot thickens! Galahad is plagued by strange, unexplainable dreams. And, a surprising revelation presents itself in the form of a young, silver-haired maiden.