It's been a while since I've updated, but there is a reason! First, I have been writing various parts of this story, as inspiration hit, so some of the future chapters are already done. Second, I've been trying to decide on the future structure of the story, as that has an impact on what I write now and the order I write it. Thirdly, after some dithering I decided that I needed someone to beta this, which of course adds a bit of time - so thank you to tumblr users ashtynqueen, kgbsprite and stuckwithcats for helping to make this chapter happen!

Sparhawk rolled the scroll between his fingers, signaling his reluctance to open it. That Berit had sent this rather than returning to the Chapterhouse worried him, and his choice of messenger just compounded that. Khalad had arrived well after sunset and delayed just long enough to change out of travel stained clothing before presenting himself: Sparhawk had insisted he eat a decent meal before they talked, despite the late hour. Now they were sitting in the privacy of Sparhawk's quarters, a flagon of wine between them and a roaring fire in front.

"Aren't you going to open it? Don't you want to know what stupidity he's spouting now?" Khalad asked, his harsh words and curt tone matching the glare he was giving the message.

"Or you could just tell me what's in it." Sparhawk suggested, still holding it lightly.

"I haven't read it – he sealed it. I'm not that low."

Berit had indeed sealed it, the red wax of his crest - a fox and axe - pinning the scroll tightly closed. That wasn't always a fool proof way to protect a message however. Khalad would certainly know how to make an intercepted message look untouched and had ample time in the weeks he had been carrying it. There were other ways – magical ways – of making sure the contents would stay private, but Sparhawk could tell that Berit hadn't used any of these.

"I didn't mean to imply that, just thought that there's probably nothing in here that will surprise you, so why not go ahead and fill me in."

"I'll let him have his say first." Khalad replied, turning his gaze to the fire.

There was nothing left to do then except crack the wax seal to reveal Berit's careful and neat handwriting.

Sparhawk,

I hope this finds you well. I hope Khalad has returned safely and he has managed to stop cussing me out. He can tell you the details of the last few months, but I want to make it clear that I told him everything about what happened in Cryga, and since. More than I've told you in fact. I had no choice really once he saw, but I'm glad I did. I had wanted to. And I'm sure that's what you intended when you sent us both out.

Sparhawk gave a small frown at that – he hadn't sent anyone anywhere. Of course he had made some suggestions for Berit but had returned from the palace to find a scribbled note from Khalad that told him Berit had asked for his company. He had noticed a rift between to the two young men in the weeks following the... incident, and while he had done what he could to get them talking again he honesty hadn't expected them to both up and leave.

We spent several months crawling around in one dusty library or another before finding rumors of a monastery in the southern mountains - the Bagat - that collect and catalogue all manner of arcane and ancient knowledge, so that's where I am heading next.

Khalad and I had words when I told him he couldn't come, for which I am sorry. The pass will soon close for the winter and Khalad can't afford any further time away from the order, not if you have planned what I think you have planned. I actually had to order him to come back to you, and I don't think either of us liked that feeling. But perhaps that will be a motivator and he will start training that much sooner.

It will be at least summer before I return, and I probably won't be able to send a message before then, but I have hopes that I will have more answers than when I left.

Please pass my best wishes on to your family, and ask Khalad not to stay angry at me for too long, I'm sorry for everything I said.

Berit

"He said you had words?" Sparhawk asked the young squire, handing over the letter for Khalad to read for himself.

"Words? No – he's just trying to make us look better. We shouted at each other in the market for at least fifteen minutes. He said I had no ambition and an inferiority complex. I told him he was a sanctimonious idiot with a death wish. Not for the first time." Khalad was reading the letter as he spoke. "It was hardly our finest hour."

"So you had a huge argument - in public, not adding to the reputation of the Order there" Sparhawk rubbed his broken nose at the thought of the rumours that might start "Because he told you that you should come home?"

"No! Because he ordered me to come home. Ordered. Like I was some sort of..."

"Like you were a squire of a militant order and were expected to obey a fully spurred Knight?" Sparhawk finished for him wryly.

Khalad was silent for a moment, before sighing and nodding. "Yes, I suppose. It sounds simple when you say it like that, but it was different at the time. He's never usually like that, not superior and condescending like some of the others."

Sparhawk knew that Khalad's and Talen's presence had caused some friction in the Chapterhouse. The younger Talen had been enrolled as a novice, but he had not managed to persuade Khalad to yet, though it was widely known that was his intention. It was not normal for a man of common blood to become a Church Knight, nor was it normal for someone to have to be persuaded to join: it was considered an honour for a young man to be accepted. Sparhawk's Knights were good men, but centuries of tradition took time to overcome and the requirement for a title was one of the most ingrained. Some of the older Knights had trouble accepting that change was coming, and to be honest Khalad's attitude did not always help.

"But he was condescending this time?"

"No, far from it. Look, you don't need to tell me I overreacted. I know that." Khalad's tone had changed from snappish to resigned. He must have been weeks travelling on his own and there was nothing like an open road and just a horse for company to prompt some serious self-reflection.

"And does Berit know that?" Sparhawk leant over and refilled both their drinks.

"I was two days on the road before I let myself know what a fool I had been. Then it was too late." Khalad took a deep swallow of wine and gestured with the letter. "Berit clearly came to the same conclusion the night before I left. He was just so infuriating: so set on going off on his own."

"I think he'll be alright. He's very capable." Sparhawk said carefully.

"I know he's capable. But he thinks he won't be hurt – I watched him pull a crossbow bolt from his shoulder and have no wound a few minutes later." Sparhawk was too old – had seen too much – to shift in discomfort under the younger man's scrutiny, but that's not to say that he was unaffected by the intense look Khalad was giving him. Sparhawk was still far from comfortable with what happened, with how it had happened, and had held some selfish hope that no-one else would know the truth. He didn't regret his actions to save Berit's life, but he couldn't shake the guilt that he had acted without real thought for the consequences despite Bhelliums' warning.

"And that will make him reckless." Khalad was finishing.

"Of all things, Berit is not reckless." Sparhawk said considering. There were many ways to describe the young knight: steady and steadfast, competent and considerate. But never reckless.

"Maybe. But that was before he could take a sword to the stomach and walk away. That was before he spends half the night awake worrying about whether he's going to lose his mind. He's going to run into something one day and he won't stop to think about his limits." Khalad replied.

"He's scared that he has no limits."

"I know. That's not an excuse to go visit those mad monks by himself though."

"As bad as that?" Sparhawk had never heard of a monastery in those mountains. Not that he paid particular attention to that sort of thing. Maybe Bevier would know them – pious as he was he had an interest in other religions as well as his own.

"Everyone we spoke to said they were reclusive, temperamental and as likely to shut you out in the cold as welcome you in." Khalad explained "The only good thing we heard was that they have an extensive and unique library."

They were both silent for a moment, filled with concern for their friend.

"He will have been worried about you too, you know. " Sparhawk said.

"Needlessly. I don't care if he's worried about me getting hurt, or worried about me seeing him get hurt again." Khalad paused and Sparhawk remembered that mad dash to Berit's side, the blood soaked sand, the thrashing and screaming of his friend as he was healed. It was hard to witness another's pain and that was surely something that kind-hearted Berit would want to protect his friend from.

Khalad was continuing, "There just isn't a good enough reason for him to do this alone. You don't really need a squire most of the time, so it was good to be able to fill my days with something useful."

"Well, about that. You can't put off your own responsibilities forever."

"Responsibilities? I don't have responsibilities."

"Yes you do. Training, the Order, becoming a Knight. It's an opportunity for you but that doesn't come free. The price for being able to wear the armour and cast magic is the weight of responsibility to do so only when necessary." Sparhawk sat forward, leaning closer to his friend as he spoke. "And the expectation is that you will strive to be as good as you can be. You will owe it to the Order, and your brothers will expect nothing less than your best. I've let you put this off for far too long, and the others have heard me grumbling about it enough. The sooner we stop playing with the suggestion of Knighting you and actually get on with it the better it will be for all of us."

Sparhawk wanted Khalad and Talen to be Knighted and landed – for them to become an accepted part of the order – in the next few years. Sparhawk wanted to give up this ridiculous title of Interim Preceptor and the time it took from his family. That wasn't going to happen until Khalad in particular was seen as part of the furniture and that would take as many concessions from the ex-squire as the existing Knights.

The Order would need Khalad: would need his practicality and level headedness. And Sparhawk owed it to Khalad's father, Kurik, to improve his sons' lives.

"This isn't making me any more enthusiastic you know. I still think this is a bad idea." Khalad mused, swirling his wine with a thoughtful expression. They had had this conversation many times, rehashing their positions until it had become rote.

Sparhawk was determined though. "I don't need your enthusiasm right now. That will come. This is the best idea I've ever had and I'm not going to give up. All I want you to do is focus, and to give this a try. Do you think you can give do that?"

Khalad gave a slow nod, and Sparhawk smiled in response.

"Then you should get some sleep, you'll start in the morning."