The first thing Rowark's racing heart wanted him to do when he heard the solemn toll of bells in the early morning was check his newly issued pocket clock, 0600 hours. Once he realized he still had an hour left, his blood rush melted into relief. He had plenty of time to freshen up and make his way to the armory. When he reached the armory doorway, he checked his clock again, 0635 hours.
Instead of an elder Sir Lockett serving as quartermaster this morning, a younger fellow with a full beard and long chestnut hair wearing the red capitan uniform was taking inventory behind the bars. "G'morning!" greeted Rowark.
"Marnin'," his soothing deep voice combined with his chiseled cheekbones instantly melted Rowark's heart. His tall posture and broad chest inspired an awe inspiring respect that "How can I help you today?"
Just keep speaking, and never stop, Rowark wanted to say; instead, he said, "I need a new doublet for the ceremony."
"Ah! I was expecting you" when the quartermaster lifted his head and locked his sky blue eyes onto Rowark's, a pinch of bliss and excitement raced through his chest. Seeing a rugged yet amicable knight was the perfect way to start his day. "Rowark, right?"
"That's correct!"
"Wonderful. Now, how tall would you say you are?"
"About two yards and three palms tall." Rowark sheepishly yet slightly overexaggerated his height to the complete stranger.
"Hmm. You should fit into our standard issue size well." He walked into the back and disappeared into a room tucked away in the corner, returning with two folded up pieces fabric, one dark green and the other dark yellow, and a pair of boots. "Try these out. If they fit, they're yours to check out. I'll go ahead and register your name to this set. If any one doesn't fit, come back, and we can exchange one that does."
"Thanks!" Rowark wanted to stay and talk more with the capitan, but he remembered to check his pocket watch instead. 0645 hours. He hurried back to his room with his new uniform. He threw off his clothes and slipped on his knight's doublet first, an ocean blue vest made of fine velvet with poofy white sleeves woven with wool. Next he tried on his golden breeches. Pulling them up for his thin legs, he fastened his tight pants before slipping his feet into the brown boots that hugged his upper calf. The shoe size was a bit small, but not unbearable, or so Rowark thought until he began to walk in them.
0652 hours. There was no time to exchange boots to relieve his discomfort. Rowark ran as fast as he could to the foyer and bolted for the main entrance. The oak door proved thicker and heavier than he anticipated as he yanked back on the door, only to budge the door enough for him to slide through the gap.
Outside, the sun had just breached the eastern horizon and was beginning to drive the evening's chill away from the city. The western courtyard was not as big as he had thought, though supposedly, the north eastern courtyard was thrice as large, and the red ramparts cast its long shadow onto the royal bridge between Skyloft's western gate and the castle, where he Rowark walked across the pavement to Skyloft's gate, forgetting that there were people there waiting for him, and immediately felt embarrassed when he felt everyone's eyes lock onto him. He put his head down immediately to avoid the attention, checking his pocket clock just to pretend he did not notice them. 0655 hours.
A podium and platform were positioned just within Skyloft's gate, where ten knights, six upper echelons and four ceremonial sentinels, were waiting for Skyloft's clock to strike at seven. The only person who wore a doublet like his stood in the middle of the pavement leading to the great castle bridge. Moving to the squire with his nose pointed to the ground, he figured standing next to the other similarly dressed person was the best way to avoid attention, but even that did not work.
"Hi! What's your name?" The gleeful young voice picked Rowark's head right up, ending up awkwardly face to face with a teenage girl with flowy hair as sunny as her greeting. Her green velvet doublet fit loosely over her thin body. The skin on her beautiful face was too flawless for her to be a soldier, or a commoner for that matter.
Her proximity startled him so much at first he almost forgot his name as he took a step away bashfully, "Oh, um… Rowark. Forkes, no, um, Forester." He had never felt more foolish as the newly appointed champion of wisdom. "Uh, what's yours?"
She giggled as she extended her hand for a handshake, "I'm Kitsis Quella. Nice to meet you!"
"Oh! You are of high nobility!" remarked Rowark as he pulled her hand to his lips, unsure if that was how he should proceed. Many soldiers of high noble backgrounds that served under the Queen made sure that the peasants serving alongside them would identify them their full names and house. House Quella was no exception.
Kitsis pulled her hand away immediately, "Not like that. Fourth daughter of a cousin thrice removed from the main branch. Someone once told me that my father had at least a hundred men ahead of him in the line of succession. Anyways, the head of my branch wanted to marry me off, but I wanted to fight in the army instead, and since House Quella doesn't allow women to serve in their ranks, I joined Her Majesty's forces just to spite my father when he told me I had no other choice." Wow. Rowark could not believe how easy it was for her to share her story with him. She just… blurted it out in one sentence. "So none of the shmancy mannerisms of nobility when you're around me, okay?" Rowark nodded. "What's your story?"
Trial. Queer. These were the only two words his mind could conjure. "Um…" he came up with about fake names for his family members and listing the names of villages that lay just outside Castle Springbock, but the longer it took for him to decide on details, he realized he was looking more and more awkward trying to come up with a story, "i-it's not interesting…"
"Not interesting?" asked Kitsis with her eyebrow raised. "You're telling me a soldier bearing the surname of a peasant who got knighted before reaching adulthood is not interesting?"
Rowark wanted to say no more, but leaving her question unanswered could leave her suspicious about his past. Before he could say anything, the hourly strike of the chapel bells saved him. Once the clock reached seven hundred hours, the capitan with gray hair covering his face rose from his seat.
Judging by the signs of aging and the many colorful layers and pieces decorating his uniform, the headmaster adjusted his wide brimmed hat and slowly made his way to the podium. Squinted eyes made it hard to make direct eye contact with the old man, and his voice carried softly across the morning wind.
"New squires of Her Majesty, the Queen Zelda Ingo, I officially welcome you to Skyloft. You have been hand picked by the Queen herself for demonstrating your valor in battle and your commitment to duty. Now it is my duty as headmaster to train you to lead your brothers and sisters as commanders, just as your commanders have once led you. For generations, the knight commanders who distribute Her Majesty's orders have formed the backbone of the army, and now, that responsibility falls upon your shoulders."
"As a soldier, only your obedience was demanded of you. From today onward, all your strength, wits, and valor will be demanded of you. However, great responsibilities are not without its rewards. As you already know, you now own your very own bedchamber with its very own address, which means you are property owners. In addition, you will receive a daily wage of two rupees per day," that was an absurd amount of money to Rowark. He was so used to the blue rupee at the tendo's end that he assumed that was going to be his wage as a knight, "which will immediately increase to five rupees per day upon graduation." His jaw dropped. THAT was an absurd amount.
"Also bestowed before the start of academy will be one set of mail and plates and one gambeson from the armory. Skyloft's first class will not begin until the first tendo of winter, so during this period of break, you will be assigned to squire for a veteran knight. You will steward for them, clean after them, but most importantly, learn from them. So without further ado, I would like to announce the knights who will be your liege from now until the start of Skyloft."
"Sir Kitsis Quella. You will be squiring for Sir Berlon Bosphoramus. Come up here to receive your sword and shield from your liege commander." The young woman hopped onto the podium like a little child, her long, bright, and golden hair reflecting brilliantly against the morning sun, and stood before her new master, while envy flowed through Rowark's veins. He would have killed to squire for his former commander.
"Sir Rowark Forester. You will be squiring for Sir Mawar." Ice replaced his envy. Rowark's heart almost stopped. "Come up here to receive your sword and shield from your liege commander."
Rowark didn't want to. Since his visit from the Goddess of Wisdom last night, which he was still unsure whether it happened or not, he had begun to feel like his life was bouncing between unseen forces like a used tool. Taking a step towards that podium meant surrendering his fate to an ambiguously moral man. This was what he wanted. Sir Mawar had must have arranged this with nothing more than the stroke of a quill.
With a heavy sigh, he finally walked toward the podium. Entering from the side, he took stepped onto the wooden podium but avoided Sir Mawar's smug glance for as long as he could until he was staring straight down into the judge's black boots and the bottom of his blue cape. When he lifted his eyes, the sight he beheld almost made him forget about the man standing directly in front of him.
Underneath was a short sword with a silver hilt, leather grip, and a dark brown scabbard. This was the ceremonial sword given to every knight in Her Majesty's army. It was a few palms shorter than the longsword favored by most men-at-arms, but it was meant to compliment the shield lying on top. Six palms from top to bottom and about five from left to right, the kite shaped shield was the ultimate symbol of the Hylian knight's might. Two digits of silver covered the edge of the shield, while the rest of the interior space was blue. Lastly, the red mark of the royal crest under the yellow triforce symbolized the true owner of the shield. Wherever each knight carried his shield, he became a symbol for the extension of the Queen's will.
Rowark did not lift his eyes past the shield and sword as he received them into his arms. He refused to look Sir Mawar in the eye, to acknowledge his victory. He was not looking forward to following him whatsoever. "Come," said the veteran knight suddenly. When he picked up his head, Sir Mawar was on his way off the podium back to the pavement where Sir Berlon and Kitsis were awaiting him. Symbolically following Sir Mawar, Rowark hurried to the front of the dais, where he stood face to face with his new supervisor just as Kitsis did to hers.
"Kneel," said the headmaster. Kitsis did as was told, and Rowark followed her example after a hefty groan and great hesitation. "Wear your shield." Rowark fitted his left arm through the leather straps and grabbed the metal bar at the end. "Draw your sword." He did so with his right hand and then pointed the blade sideways. This ceremonious pose that Rowark held was the traditional way a lord swore fealty to both his liege and the Queen.
"Now solemnly swear this oath of before the Goddesses. I, state your name…"
"I, Rowark Forester… " he recited after the headmaster, "swear this oath before the Goddesses to my liege and my kingdom. Through my service and my learning, I will defend Hyrule's lands with leadership. My obedience to my master will be my guide. My perseverance through the darkness shall be my shield. My daring to go above and beyond shall be my sword. My master shall guide my service. My faith shall direct my conduct. My Queen shall protect my authority. From now until I draw last breath, I act in the name of Queen Zelda and Hyrule. May the Golden Goddesses observe my homage to Her and rule over me with power, wisdom, and courage."
"You may put away your sword." Rowark stood up but kept his eyes directed at the headmaster. "The ceremony has come to a close. Before you are dismissed, make sure to find time to schedule a meeting with the armory for tailoring. Stay ever vigilant in these dark times, for as you may have heard the news: the princess has passed away to the next life." There was a brief silence that followed the shocking revelation, but though it felt long, the headmaster continued after the brief moment, "Your assistance in the coming election will be most critical. Go with courage."
On cue, all knights placed their right first over their heart and canted in unity, "As the Hero did."
Rowark sighed and humbly accepted his fate.
"Not what you expected?" asked Sir Mawar.
"At first, I thought you were here just to witness the ceremony, or congratulate me. But after everything I've seen in the past two days," he exhaled feeling like a fool, "I really should not have been surprised to discover why you were really here."
"Hmph. You're learning."
Rowark hung his head, "Clearly I have a lot more to learn. I suppose that's why you chose me."
"Teaching you the ways of politics was the primary reason for this relationship."
"And to watch over me."
"Obviously."
"Any more reasons?" Sir Mawar silently smirked in response. Only time would answer that. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure."
Rowark thought it odd that Sir Mawar was officially called by that full name. "You don't have a surname. Did you grow up without a-?"
"Yes," answered Sir Mawar, "left at the doorstep of an orphanage, and raised by rats and thieves." Just like that, Rowark's opinion of his new master flipped into deep respect and understanding. His humble background perfectly explained why he was comfortable resorting to bounty hunters and others who operated beyond the law to achieve his goals. But that still left this particular question unanswered, was he doing this for the good of the realm? There was no way for Rowark to find out other than to study under Sir Mawar. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Rowark supposed. "Any more questions, or may I begin?"
"No more questions," Rowark bowed. "My apologies, sire."
"Under my tutelage, you need never to apologize for asking anything." The old man stroked his silver beard as he turned his face castle-ward, "We begin tomorrow promptly at 0600 hours. I expect you to be fully dressed and ready in my study before the castle bells ring in the sixth hour."
"Yes, sire."
"And one more thing. When you get the first chance, I want you to begin researching the history of House Nohansen. They will be at the center of this upcoming election."
Rowark shuddered at the thought of delving into politics. "Yes, sire."
"You are dismissed for the day."
When he started walking back toward Skyloft, Kitsis caught up to him. "I haven't eaten breakfast yet, you wanna grab some with me?"
What Rowark really wanted to do was to visit the chapel again and see if Nayru would speak to him once again. There were just too many questions still chiseling away his mind for him to ignore. He thought about the task bestowed upon him by Sir Mawar and the immense hours necessary to prepare for the upcoming election. He pondered briefly on Nayru's words about acquiring aid for his holy yet impossible mission, and then his stomach rumbled loudly, "Sure, I'm famished."
Excited by his acceptance of her invitation, she hopped and skipped with joy, "All right, you're going to tell me all about yourself!"
Rowark grinned, "Only if I get to ask questions about you."
"Deal!" she ran ahead and grabbed Rowark by the wrist. "Come on!"