Chapter 10 - Fiyr

The first thing I hear when I wake up is the heavy rain doing its damnedest to get into the squire's wing. My body protests the idea of getting out of bed so early in the morning, but I know for a fact that we haven't had time to repair the leak in the healer's wing and if, by some cruel twist of fate, Yllowei Fennen gets soggy, I might as well start planning my funeral.

With that thought, I scramble out of bed and change from my cotton sleep-clothes to the regular Thundrian uniform and hurry to the healer's wing, trying not to wake anybody up on my way.

I tiptoe into the healer's wing with a candle in hand and carefully light the torch next to the entrance to the wing.

When I turn around, the faint torchlight illuminates a horrifying sight.

The outline of Yllowei, sitting up in her bed for blessed Starlaxi knows how long, her hair wild and frizzy, hazel eyes narrowed, with a tiny drop of water pitting into her mane every few seconds.

"Gah!" I yelp, my hand shaking so hard I almost drop the candle.

Barely glancing away from me, she lights the candle next to her bed as well, illuminating more of her disheveled appearance.

"It's been raining, hasn't it." Not a question, just sort of a growl.

"W—why don't you move to one of the free beds in the nursery? They can always spare a-"

"I've been kept up at all hours of the night by small children enough times in my life," she hisses.

"Y—you can move to one of the other healer's beds, I'll get you some fresh sheets," I stammer, trying not to look directly at her.

"Yes, you will," she growls, and I whip around and hurry out of the healer's wing.

I haven't made it more than three steps across the throne room and towards the storage rooms when I nearly crash headfirst into someone.

"Apologies, ma'am!" I exclaim in a whisper when I see it's a very disgruntled Speikell Tiall.

"Queen Bluelianna wants to speak with you," she says briskly, pointing at the ominous door behind the throne.

I gulp. That doesn't sound good…

Tension tingling in my spine, I climb up the dais and knock hesitantly on the wooden door.

"Enter," the queen calls, muffled by the oak, and I crack it open.

It's a room I've never actually seen before in my whole time at the castle; the queen's chambers.

I push it further open tentatively and step inside. The walls are covered in maps of different sections of the kingdom with strange labels, words that mean nothing to me. A seemingly random patch of trees has a piece of parchment stuck to it with word 'Escondite' scribbled on it. A village is labelled 'Reforzamiento'. A small stretch of hills next to the Shodawes border has the tag 'Emboscada'.

Gibberish. Probably a code or something, I conclude. Old Thundria, maybe.

"You wanted to see me?"

The queen looks up from her desk. She has papers scattered around her and her left hand is covered in ink stains. "Yes, yes, Fiyr, come in. Sit down."

She seems distracted as she runs an inky hand through her bluish gray hair.

"Not in trouble, am I?" I joke uncomfortably, slowly easing myself into the wooden chair she has across from her desk.

"Of course not, no no," she mutters, sweeping papers aside and then folds her hands on the table. "I've decided you should join the other squires again. Lady Fennen can be looked to by Spottalia Lief; your training comes first. Sir Cawle is evaluating the squires today, and I'd like you to join them."

My eyes widen. "Really? Thank you! Thank you!"

I bow hastily, half-out of my chair already.

"They're meeting at the base of the trees in half an hour," the queen informs me, returning to her work. "Get something to eat."

When I leave the office, the throne room's begun to buzz with activity.

I head to the squire's nook to wake up Graie, but when I pull back the curtain I find him yanking off his shirt.

"You could knock!" he yelps, his shirt half-over his head and stumbles backwards onto his bed.

A surprised bout of laughter erupts out of me and I whip the curtain shut. "On a curtain?"

"The wall, numb-nuts!" Graie cries indignantly, then pulls open the curtain in full uniform.

"You're up early," I say.

"I know," he groans. "Fate worse than death; an early morning assessment. You're lucky you're just dealing with Yllowei."

"No, I'm joining you actually," I tell him, laughing.

"No shit? Man, the queen hates your guts," he replies, hobbling past me and out into the throne room, beelining for the dining hall.

"She doesn't hate me, she just really really really wants to drive me crazy," I mutter, following him.

He snorts, which in his present state of consciousness is about equal to rolling on the floor laughing if he was properly awake.

"Breakfast," he groans, resting his head on the counter.

"Want to try that again as a functioning human being?" Frostialla Fuor invites with a cocked eyebrow.

"Eaaaat," Graie mumbles, and I'm pretty sure he's fallen asleep again standing up.

"Two plates of breakfast please, coffee, and water," I request with a grateful smile and grab Graie's collar. "C'mon buddy, time to wake up."

Frostialla gives me a eyeroll and ducks back in to get the food.

Two minutes later I've managed to get Graie into an upright position and Frostialla Fuor's back with our food.

"Here you are," she says, laying each plate on the counter carefully.

"Come on, Graie, you have to carry your own plate, I have to take my coffee," I plead, elbowing his.

He collapses like jelly.

"Ooooh, no you don't," I tell him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him until he blinks, looking disoriented.

"Time to get up?" he mumbles.

"Breeaaakfast," I tell him, waving the plate under his nose.

He closes his eyes and follows it with his head, swaying like a snake. His hands rise, and I deposit the plate in them before taking a hold of my own breakfast and rolling my eyes out of his sight. We walk into the dining room and sit, Graie seeming very awake all of a sudden.

"So what's up with this assessment?" I ask, cutting up my food.

"Pair hunting," Graie explains through giant mouthfuls. "Sir Cawle's sending us in different directions over the kingdom to hunt in different territories."

"Has he given out the pairs yet?" I ask hopefully.

Depending on who I'm with, this day could be a fun hunting trip through the forest or one of the more unpleasant things I've ever done.

"Not yet, he will once we're all collected," Graie answers, focusing deeply on his food.

"Oh great." Doesn't soothe my nerves at all. That, or the caffeine's kicking in.

"Ugh, is the god-toy doing the assessment too?" Duss complains, sauntering into the dining hall behind Samn.

"My name is Fiyr," I tell my eggs.

"What's that?" Duss jeers, leaning over the table towards me.

"I'm not a god-toy, my name is Fiyr!" I snap, glaring at him.

"I thought the gods beat all the dissension out of their servants," Samn observes snidely, setting his plate down at a table far from mine and Graie's.

"Yeah, well you don't know shit about the gods!" I spit back, standing up, suddenly feeling less hungry.

Graie's fork clatters onto the table as he drops it. I glance down and see that he's finished his breakfast. "We should bring our plates back."

Wordlessly, trying to relax my tensed muscles, I stand up from the bench and carry my plate back to the kitchen with Graie. He glances at me a couple times, then looks back at his plate, then back at me, then finally speaks.

"Don't let them get to—"

"You've said it a hundred times, but I just wish I didn't have to deal with it!" I snap irritably. "What is their problem?! I left the gods!"

He sighs, scrubbing at his face with his free hand. "It's… complicated. You know that on the same day that you showed up at court, Samn's father was killed, so he probably feels like the second you showed up, things started going wrong. You know, part of his life ended when his father died and the next part started when you showed up. He's probably just trying to hang on to how things were before you came to court."

I look upwards, thinking. I've heard people talk about Redde Tayle enough that it feels like I know him, but I guess after awhile I just sort of forgot about him. It wouldn't be so easy for his son to let him go though.

"I… I can't really imagine what that's like for him," I mumble, feeling out of place suddenly. "My parents gave me up to the gods before I even knew them… I never had a chance to lose them."

Graie looks me pityingly, but I glance away. "Still doesn't explain Duss's sour attitude."

"He's… a complicated one," Graie sighs. "His father left his mother, almost immediately after she knew she was pregnant, to be with my mother…"

"Wait," I interrupt, brow furrowing. "To be with your mother? He's your… half-brother?"

"Uhuh," he replies, then shrugs with a regretful sigh. "Never really acted like family though. 'Sides, my dad… basically fucked off back to a village after he and my mom were done. So I don't think Duss missed much in the fatherhood department. Duss doesn't look kindly on… mingling though, so when you came out of nowhere I think it just made him angrier. Inconstancy, I guess. People being quick to praise what's new and interesting and forgetting about everyone else, like his father did with his mother and my mother, and how the court's done it with him and you."

I cock my head. "Is that really enough to make him like that though?"

"I think Samn and Duss sort of feed into each other," Graie says thoughtfully as we return out plates. "They're so close that if they think the other one hates you, they'll be quick to pretend that they do too. I think if you got one of them alone, it might change things."

I nod, chewing on that. For such a carefree kid, Graie's a lot wiser than he looks. And he's not wrong. I mean, how Samn was joking around when I brought their catches back the other day… but then again, what about when I told him I thought we could've been friends, and he shut me down so fast? Duss was nowhere then, and he still snapped.

I wince at the memory. Despite all my sympathy for Samn's trouble with his father, I really wish we could be friends. It's a weirdly strong feeling to feel towards someone who apparently hates me so much… I don't really feel it towards Duss. I wish Duss wasn't so standoffish, but I'm in no hurry to buddy up with him.

Samn, on the other hand, occasionally shows glimmers of what I can only imagine he was like before his father died. Moments where he's teasing Duss, or gloating to Sir Strommer about his bullseyes. Confident and laid-back. It's a weirdly disappointed feeling in my gut, just thinking about how different things might have been if Sir Tayle wasn't killed.

No point in dwelling on how things could have been, I guess… I think, sighing.

"C'mon, Sir Cawle's waiting for us, and today of all days is one where we'd better be on time," Graie declares, redirecting our path towards the front doors of the castle. "Assessment, wheeeee…"

I laugh, feeling a bit better and we hurry out the doors of the castle and make it to the forest floor in record time. We beat both Samn and Duss, but Ravne's been sitting at the base of a tree, fiddling with his arrows since before we get there.

Sir Cawle stands in the middle of a clearing, silent and waiting. A minute later, Samn and Duss both hit the ground in puffs of dust that I'm certain they used their respective life-force abilities to manipulate the ground, just to make a dramatic entrance. Duss shimmied down a tree alongside Samn this time, though, I notice.

Show-offs.

Ever since I started the life-force studies that every squire has to go through, I've learned how unfair certain things are. For whatever reason, I know I've shown unusual talent, but my abilities are counteracted by the fact that I won't actually be able to create fire until I'm a full knight.

So every time we practice life-force, the knights have to bring big torches for me to use. Samn and Duss can just pull their elements straight from the ground. Things will even out once we're knights, but until then if I get into a fight, I'll be using my sword and hoping someone brought a torch for some random reason.

Not to mention those who don't even use elements or summon like Sir Cawle and Sir Hartef. All they need is space and time, and boom, they've got the upperhand. Alchemists, I recall the right term for them.

As Sir Cawle turns on his heel and begins to lead us to the training grounds, something occurs to me.

I elbow Graie. "If everyone's named after their life-force type, how come Sir Cawle's name is drawn from 'tiger'? He's not a summoner…"

Graie runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Not the sort of thing they talk about in class, but there's kind of… a divide between summoners and elementalists... and alchemists."

"A divide?" I cock an eyebrow.

"Like…" he rubs his hands as we walk, then continues quietly, "alchemists are considered less powerful. But… it's sort of grounded, because it's certainly easier to see someone who can pull lions out of hats as stronger than someone who can just change the colours of stuff. It's not totally correct though, because alchemical life-force usually just means you have to get creative with its uses. Like, colour magic, you could turn the air directly in front of someone's eyes as bright white as the sun and blind them. Lions can just attack stuff. Plus, interior decorating."

I laugh, nodding. "I get it. So people just think because it's harder to use effectively means you can't use it effectively."

"Exactly."

I fall silent. "But that still doesn't explain why Sir Cawle's parents didn't name him after 'sharp' or something."
Graie sighs again, glancing up ahead to make sure Sir Cawle isn't listening in on our conversation. "His parents had tree summoning and leopard summoning life-forces, two particularly gifted life-force users. When their kid was born and demonstrated the ability to sharpen and dull things, they were… disappointed, to say the least."

"Were you even born then?" I question, suspicious of how he apparently knows the history of people that died before he was even alive.

"Nah," he admits, laughing. "Second-hand rumours. But they explain a lot, and the Thundrian records keep track of most of this stuff. So when you see two people with summoner and elementalist life-force give birth to a kid with sharpening/dulling life-force and name him for 'tiger', it's not hard to connect the dots."

I frown. "What kind of parents would try to pretend their kid was something they weren't, when what they are is just as good, but different?"

"Because people are bloody idiots," Graie declares, laughing. "You've hit the question people have been asking themselves since the beginning of time. This is as close to an answer as we've gotten."

I feel an odd stab of sympathy for Sir Cawle. Can't have been easy to have a name as a constant reminder that what he was born with wasn't good enough for the people who were supposed to love him unconditionally.

"And Sir Liyon Hartef?" I point out. I could see someone as sour as Sir Cawle coming from the kind of people who would deliberately misname their child to remind them of their shortcomings, but Sir Hartef is so honorable and loyal that—

"Yeah, his parents were the same," Graie nods. "Speikall Tiall's his mother, you know."

"Really?" My eyes widen. "But…" There's less than twenty years difference between them.

"Mm," Graie nods, confirming it. "She was apparently very upset when her child took after her in life-force type instead of her husband's."

"How does life-force even work in genetics?" I ask, frowning. If a summoner and an elementalist like Tigre's parents can give birth to an alchemist…

"Blacklands if I know," Graie snorts. "But it doesn't matter. No matter what kind of life-force you have, you can use it to be strong. And not every strong life-force leads to a strong knight. Look at people like Brindellia Faise. One of the most talented life-force users in the four kingdoms and she barely leaves the castle."

"Animal summoning, right?" I recall, thinking of my half-hearted studying of everyone's life-force. Hers is an interesting case. Most summoners have one animal that they can do all sorts of things with. She has all of them.

"Yeah. Honestly, if she went into more battles instead of staying in the nursery and taking care of kids all day, Thundria would be ruling all four kingdoms," Graie says, snorting.

"Why doesn't she?" I demand, then fall silent, remembering it. "Not the childbearing thing, is it?"

The old laws that women were supposed to have kids, lest the courts collapse from underpopulation. Outdated and pointless, if you asked me, but most important court members have made it clear to me that my opinion as a supposed outsider is worthless.

"Sort of," Graie says, shrugging. "Just sort of a general attitude that women shouldn't fight because… I don't really know. Less physically strong or something, but that's not even half the battle when there's stuff like life-force to consider, so go figure."

As always when the subject of the kingdoms' idiotically stubborn refusal to accept women as actual knights instead of just sort of hand waving their importance comes up, a deep frown sets into my face.

"C'mon, you need to get through this assessment before you start trying to change all the social constructs of the kingdoms," Graie teases, jutting his chin out to where Tigre Cawle's stopped and turned around to face us.

"Right," I mutter, my complaints subsiding as Sir Cawle begins speaking.

"Your assessment today will be to gauge your hunting ability, discipline, teamwork, and general intelligence," he rattles off, sounding slightly bored and like he's memorized this from a sheet of paper. "You will be hunting in pairs, each sent to a different part of the territory. You may split up, or stay together, I don't care. I will be watching you, so rest assured that if you try any silliness, there's a good chance you'll be taking care of the elders for the next six months."

There's a general snicker that's quieted by a glare from the burly knight.

"I'll give you your pairs and then your hunting section," he explains. "No complaining about either. I am utterly uninterested in how much you hate each other and-or the different sections of the forest. Spare me and the rest of your squires your whinging. Understood?"

"Yessir," everyone mumbles.

"Excellent. Without further ado, the lucky couples," he sneers. "Graie and Duss will be hunting in the northwest forests by the large village of Cumulus."

It looks like it is physically harming Duss not to whine about this.

Graie doesn't look pleased either, but true to his word he says nothing.

Please let me be paired with Ravne, please let me be—

"Fiyr and Samn will hunt by the southwest border," Tigre Cawle states, a dry smile spreading over his face. "And Ravne will be hunting alone by the Cockatrice Ruins. Should be easy enough for your pitiful skill."

Despite my heart falling at the prospect of hunting with the world's blondest jerk, my eyebrows raise at Sir Cawle implying the Cockatrice Ruins are an easy place to hunt.

"Uh, but isn't Ravne going to be too busy trying not to get turned to stone to actually hunt?" I question to Graie.

"He'll be fine; Ravne's craftier than he looks," Graie replies without looking away from Sir Cawle.

That's not really what I asked… I think silently, but shrug.

"Alright, head out," Sir Cawle orders. "When you hear the hunting horn, the assessment is over."

I nod in unison with the other squires, avoiding Samn's olive green gaze.

"Go," Tigre announces, and we all head out in different directions.

Samn takes the lead silently, and we ride out to the southwest border of Thundria.

We're almost halfway to the border and I'm considering trying to strike up a conversation with him when he suddenly holds up his hand to stop me. How did he know I was going to say something?

But then he halts Dune, and I realize he meant stop the horse, not whatever asinine comment I was planning. I awkwardly twist Blitz's reins and bring her to what could charitably be called a halt.

He, silent as death, unslings his bow and levels an arrow at a doe about fifteen meters away that I somehow completely missed. I manage to restrain a gasp, but his eyes flick my way for a moment, then back to the doe.

With a barest twitch, he shifts a little to the left to compensate for the breeze and lets his arrow fly. It impales itself right in the chest of the doe, which collapses with a squeal of pain.

I stare at Samn, nakedly impressed, but he pays me no mind and spurs Dune towards the dying animal, pulls out a hunting and finishes it off, and then speaks an inaudible prayer to the Starlaxi.

"Wow, you're-"

"Next time keep your damn mouth shut!" Samn snaps, rounding on me.

"Okay! Blessed Starlaxi! Relax," I snap back, immediately on the defensive. "If me breathing bothers you so damn much then let's split up!"

"Fine by me!" he shouts back, already leaving clearing and leaving me to deal with the doe's body.

Rolling my eyes angrily, I tie the corpse high enough to stop anything from stealing it while we hunt. Stuck-up jerk. Thinks he can just run around making kills and expects everyone to pick up after him.

Maybe I should have just left the doe on the ground to spite him. Well… no, that would be a waste. I'm still itching to get back at him somehow though. I'll just catch more than him, I resolve.

I slip into the fifth dimension, hoping to catch the drifting trace of another doe (preferably larger than Samn's) and instead I sense the presence of another person.

I can't quite get a read on their origins, but it's a familiar feeling. Probably just Sir Cawle, nothing to worry about. I think…

Creeping forwards slowly, I squint through the trees to try to spot the person, and realize with a jolt that it's pretty solidly not Sir Cawle.

Intruder, I think immediately, my hand going to the hilt of Rusty.

I silently walk into the clearing behind the strange person, and just as I'm getting ready to pull out my sword, my shoulders tense abruptly with recognition. That's not an intruder!

"Prin?" I call out uncertainly. Could just be some random god-to—employee… but I'd know that hair anywhere.

"Rossy!" She whips around and stares at me. I hardly recognize her; her hair's been cut short, in brown and white feathers that frame her ears and jaw, and she's grown enough that she looks more like a grown woman than the girl-teenager I remember. "Gods, I can't believe it's you!"

I nearly knock her over with a massive bear hug. "I've missed you so much."

"You haven't been visiting," she murmurs, half-teasing.

"They don't really like god-toys at court," I mumble back into her hair.

"You've gotten stronger," she says, pulling back to get a good look at me. "Have they been feeding you well? Are you happy? Have you made friends? Gotten a handle on that fire?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and I'm trying," I answer breathlessly. It's like some hollow in my heart's been filled back up, seeing her again. "You were right."

"As I often am," she says.

It feels so weirdly normal, just talking to her like this again. It's been years, I realize, like a bucket of cold water upended on my head. Years more that she's been with the gods. I haven't kept my promise, have I? Years, and I have no idea how to help her.

"You should come back with me," I say suddenly.

Prin's eyes widen, then she twists to look back at the wall. I didn't realize I'd gotten so close to the trace-line. "I can't, Rossy, you know I can't."
"Why?" I sound like a little kid again, I know I do, but i can't help her if I don't understand!

She shakes her head. "I have to go. It was good seeing you, and please don't stay away so long again."

This isn't enough! that little kid yells inside me, on the precipice of a temper tantrum. I want to see her for longer! I have to help her! But she's already stepping back, waving goodbye, and then climbing back over the wall

And though I'm sure it's only my imagination, I hear the snap of a twig and the sound of footsteps running away from where I stand in the trees, deeper into the forest.

Thanks for reading chapter 10! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila