Welcome, Aleera GiacoRavenne! Thanks for the follow!

We finally get to see more Tristan in this chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER FOUR

Early the next morning, Arthur sent an invitation through one of his servants asking her to join him for breakfast, since he had been too busy the night before to have dinner with her. Breck, more than happy to spend time with her friend – and eager to eat something that didn't come from the tavern – immediately set off toward his estate. She was shown to the same dining room that she had periodically joined Arthur for meals in when they had been children, where she found her friend already waiting for her.

Arthur immediately grinned at the sight of her. "I am glad you came," he said as the servant who had brought her to Arthur left and closed the door behind him.

"As if I would ever refuse," she said back with a smile.

"Come, sit," Arthur urged, placing a hand on her back and leading her to the table.

He ushered her into a seat to the right of his own chair at the head of the table. After he pushed in her chair, he made quick work of pouring two glasses of water and then sat down himself. Breck eyed the wide array of food that had already been placed on the table – smoked bacon, ham steaks, hardboiled eggs, breads, cheeses. It was a meal fit for a king, and as Breck inhaled the scent, she felt her mouth water already.

"You are going to spoil me with such fineries," she warned him jokingly.

"After all your time on the road, you deserve to be spoilt just a little," Arthur responded sincerely. "Now eat your fill, and do not be shy," he all but ordered.

Breck happily obliged, and the two of them quickly filled their plates.

"So tell me," Arthur said as they dug into their food. "How was your first full day back at the Wall?"

Breck thought of the previous day and nodded her head. "It went well," she said.

"The stable work is not too challenging? You worked well with Jols and Devran?"

"No," Breck assured with a shake of her head. "The horses seemed to accept me well enough, and Jols is easy to work with. We spent much of the day talking about old times," she said with a smile. "As for Devran, well…I barely heard two words leave his lips the entire day. I think he is afraid of me."

Arthur smirked with amusement. "It is likely your beauty that frightens him. I doubt he has ever been so close to such a pretty woman," he said. "Actually, I doubt he has ever been close to a woman at all," he added with a thoughtful look.

Breck gave him a doubtful look. "I doubt that to be the case," she said firmly.

Arthur merely shrugged. "Either way, Devran has proven himself to be a good lad. I am sure it will only be a matter of time before he comes around," he said with a nod.

Breck took another bite of food as a brief silence passed between them. After she washed it down with a drink of water, she looked to Arthur again.

"I went to my old home, after I had finished work," she told him, which made him pause with his fork halfway to his mouth. "I saw what happened."

Arthur sighed and lowered his fork without taking a bite. "The house burning down was…most unfortunate," he said with a small frown.

Breck tilted her head questioningly. "Why did you leave it standing?"

"That was your home, Breck," Arthur said, giving her a meaningful look. "After you and your father departed for Ireland, I begged my father not to allow anyone else to live there. A part of me hoped that if the house remained empty, that if we kept it just as you had left it, then perhaps someday you would return to live there once more. He agreed, eventually, and the house remained unoccupied," he revealed. "I often went there when I found myself in need of solitude…or whenever I found myself missing you more than usual. Being there made me feel as if I still had a piece of you with me," he said with a small smile. He paused, cleared his throat, then shook his head. "When the house burned, I simply could not find it in myself to have it demolished. It meant too much to me to see it gone completely. So I left it."

Breck had suspected the reason to be something along those lines, but hearing him say it aloud, hearing the sentiment behind it, made her heart warm. She reached over to place a hand over his, smiling at him fondly. "I am glad you found solace there, when I could not be here to offer it myself."

Arthur smiled as he turned his hand under hers and squeezed her fingers. "Mad as my reasoning was, I suppose it did work to an extent," he said. "You came back."

Breck huffed out a quiet laugh. "I did."

Arthur gave her hand another squeeze, then they released one another. "Would you want me to have the remains removed now?" he asked.

Breck thought about it, then sighed and nodded. It wasn't as though there was anything about it that was salvageable, nor would she be living there again. "Perhaps it is for the best," she said, thinking how unsafe it was for the ruined building to remain there, where anyone could venture inside and get hurt.

Arthur nodded. "Very well. I will see to it that it is done."

They went back to their food, eating in silence as they both became lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, though, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Is there anything else to report about yesterday?" he asked to change the subject.

Breck immediately thought about that man she had seen, whom she had thought about off and on since she had caught him watching her. She considered telling Arthur, but quickly decided against it. For one, if Arthur knew someone had been watching her, it would worry him. Also, she still wasn't completely convinced that she hadn't just been seeing things. If she told Arthur she had seen someone, only for it to be a figment of her imagination, it would make her sound mad – and that, she knew, would likely worry Arthur, too.

"No," she told him. "I crossed paths with Vanora after I visited my old home, then we went to the tavern together. I ate and drank with the men, then retired for the evening."

"Good," Arthur said, looking pleased. "I am happy your start here has been a good one."

"Me too," Breck agreed.

Arthur took a big bite of food, then wiped at his mouth with his napkin. "I do not wish to overwhelm you, but I might have another task for you. One that could make you more coin, if you are willing," he said, his tone more businesslike.

"What is this task?" Breck inquired.

"How are your archery skills?"

Breck nodded her head. "They are quite fair. Why?"

"There are some lads in town who have been expressing interest in learning how to handle a bow and arrow," Arthur revealed. "They are in need of a good teacher. I considered appointing the task to my scout, Tristan, for he is excellent with a bow, but…I believe the lads would be far too afraid of him to learn anything. You are considerably less intimidating than he is," Arthur said with a smirk.

There was that name again – the name of the mysterious Sarmatian she had yet to meet. "Why have I not yet met this Tristan fellow? I keep hearing his name, yet, I have not even seen him," she commented curiously.

"He has been around. He has merely been…busy," Arthur said, taking a drink of water. Before she could inquire further, he raised his brows. "So? Would you be willing?"

Breck only had to think on it for a moment before nodding. "I would. Will it interfere with my work in the stables, though? I do not wish to make things harder for Jols."

Arthur waved off her concerns with a dismissive hand. "You will only need to train a few days out of the week. Besides, he will have Devran there to help in your absence. I am confident it will not be an issue, but I will speak to Jols and ensure he agrees with it."

"Very well," Breck said.

"It is settled then. After we finish here, I will escort you to the stables and speak with Jols. Then I will send word when I am ready for you to meet your new pupils in the training arena."

Breck's brows raised in surprise. "You wish me to start today?"

"The sooner, the better," he said.

It was very sudden, but after all that Arthur had done for her so far, she was not about to deny him. If he wanted her help, then she would see it done. "Alright then," Breck said with a shrug.

They finished up breakfast a short while later, then Arthur escorted her to her quarters first, where she collected her bow, then they continued on to the stables as planned. There was a brief conversation had with Jols upon arriving, where Arthur informed him of Breck's new role as trainer and how it would impact her work at the stables. Jols, as had been predicted, did not have any issues with the change in her schedule – or, at least, none that he voiced aloud. With the matter settled, Arthur told her he would see her soon and then bid her goodbye.

Once Arthur was gone, Breck went to greet Lugh and show him some affection, then got to work. She started by refilling the troughs out in the field with fresh water, then went back inside to muck out a few of the stalls so that the horses would not be stamping in their own manure. Devran was eventually sent off to the market to restock on a few supplies, and Jols headed out as well to see to an errand.

Left alone in the stables, Breck decided to let the horses out into the field so they could exercise. She released each horse one by one, offering sweet words in Gaelic and patting those who didn't oppose the affection. Lugh did not immediately follow the other horses, however, and because he stayed behind, Azia did as well.

"You do not wish to run today, my love?" Breck asked Lugh in Gaelic, rubbing a hand along the length of his neck. Lugh merely snorted softly and nuzzled his head into her shoulder, making her smile. "What? Did you miss me?" she questioned.

He snorted again and nipped at her hair. Breck laughed and playfully pushed his nose away. Azia, seeing the way they were interacting, trotted over and nickered to grab Breck's attention. Breck turned to the mare and smiled, petting her as well. "I see you are both starved for affection today," Breck commented teasingly. She stared up at Azia, admiring her coat and strong physique. "You are certainly a beautiful girl," she complimented, still speaking Gaelic.

Azia, who seemed to understand the kind words, tossed her mane as if showing off, making Breck laugh again. Suddenly Lugh butted his head against her, making a sound of impatience, as if he couldn't stand the fact that she was showing so much attention to another horse. Breck grinned as she turned back to him, placing her hands on either side of his large nose before kissing it affectionately.

"There is no need for jealousy, love," she said to him sweetly. "You know my heart is yours."

It was then that Breck was hit, yet again, with the distinct feeling of being watched. She turned around quickly, half expecting to see that dark-haired stranger again, but relaxed when she saw that it was Gawain standing in the doorway instead. He had been watching her with a certain look in his eye that he wasn't quick enough to conceal, but the moment he realized he had been caught, the expression was replaced with a friendly smile.

"Good morning, Breck," he greeted as he strolled into the stables.

"Good morning, Gawain," she said back politely, ignoring the nervousness that had suddenly bloomed in her belly, and the heat she could feel beginning to creep into her cheeks.

"I was listening to you talk to the horses," he said as he stopped next to where she stood, keeping a respectable distance between them. "Your language is very soothing to the ear."

Gawain then turned his attention to Lugh and reached his hand out so that the horse could sniff him. Breck watched Lugh for his reaction, then smiled at Gawain when the horse nudged his hand in acceptance.

"What is his name?" Gawain asked as he began to pet the large horse's neck.

"Lugh."

"A strong name for a fine horse," Gawain said with approval. Then he shot Breck a curious look. "What were you saying to him?"

"I told him not to be jealous," Breck said, tapping Lugh on the nose playfully and making him shake his head with a huff. "He does not appreciate it when I bestow attention upon the other horses," she added matter-of-factly.

Gawain chortled and reached his hand up to stroke Lugh's mane, which the horse seemed to greatly enjoy. "I understand your consternation, noble steed," Gawain told the horse in a low, sympathetic voice. "I imagine I would feel the same in your shoes…or rather, hoofs."

Breck looked to Gawain with mild surprise when he said this. Gawain turned his head to look back at her, as if to gauge her reaction to his words, and for a moment silence passed between them.

To put it plainly, Breck's experience with the opposite sex was next to non-existent. There had been one boy she had fancied back when she was living in Ireland and they had even shared a few secret kisses, but the death of her father and her running away to live at the monastery had quickly ended that fleeting romance. Since then, there had been no time – nor any desire – for romance or marriage or anything of the sort, as she had been far too busy hating and hunting Cerdic to trouble herself with such frivolous things. Having a romantic connection with a man had been the furthest thing from her mind.

That wasn't to say that men hadn't tried their luck with her, here or there. Every so often, there had been a brave soul in some town she stayed in who decided they liked the way she looked and tried to charm her. Breck, uninterested in such attention, had always found a way to scare off any would-be suitors, just so that she wouldn't be hassled. She was not one to flirt, and she did not usually enjoy being on the receiving end of flirtations either. It made her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel awkward. It was something she did her absolute best not to encourage.

This moment with Gawain was really no different, in a way. He was not some random man in a town she wouldn't remember, nor was she repulsed by him the way she had been by others in the past. But his comment left her feeling awkward, simply because she didn't know if he was trying to insinuate anything, and because she didn't know what to say in return. She decided it was probably safest to just pretend like he had never said anything at all.

After clearing her throat awkwardly, Breck patted Lugh on the flanks and gave him a gentle nudge toward the door that led to the field. Lugh finally trotted outside, and Azia soon followed.

"What brings you to the stables this morning?" she asked to end the lingering silence that had fallen between them. "Do you require your horse to be saddled?" she said, motioning toward the saddles. "I can fetch Gringolet from the field."

Gawain didn't seem bothered by her lack of reaction to his comment as he shook his head. "No, no. I merely need to sharpen my axe, and the tools to do so are here," he said with a smile.

Breck nodded, then watched as Gawain took a seat on one of the benches near the saddle rack. He retrieved the axe that had been hanging from a holster on his back and started sharpening it with a tool that he pulled from the supplies trunk. While he got to work on his axe, Breck started tidying up various odds and ends around the stables, just so that she would not be awkwardly loitering nearby.

Though Gawain seemed focused enough on what he was doing, Breck could feel his eyes on her back every now and again as she moved about. He was making her a little anxious, watching her the way that he was, and try as she might to ignore it, she couldn't.

Had he been any other man, she would have said something biting by now and probably threatened to cut out an eye for good measure, just to make sure he was well and truly frightened away. But, again, Gawain was not just any other man. He was Arthur's friend. He was a man who had bought her ale and made her laugh over dinner these past two nights, a man who had welcomed her amongst him and his comrades with open arms. It felt like he was on the fast track to becoming her friend.

And as Breck snuck a look at him over her shoulder, she could not deny that he was very handsome, as well as funny and charming. Every time she saw him, she felt a funny little feeling in her stomach that she hadn't felt since she had been just a girl back in Ireland. Breck was attracted to him, there was little doubt in her mind about that, but acknowledging that only made her feel even more uncomfortable about the whole situation.

She knew how to handle herself when trading in market places, or travelling dangerous roads, or fighting off enemies. But romance? Attraction? Desire?

That was all foreign to Breck.

It was also something that she should probably not even be thinking about. She had not come to Hadrian's Wall to find a suitor – she had come to reconnect with Arthur, to rest and recoup before continuing on the hunt for Cerdic. Breck looked at Gawain over her shoulder again, watching as he sharpened the blade of his axe. He is only a man, she reminded herself. There was no need for her to be so nervous, so awkward, around him, nor was there any reason to be losing her head over him. For all she knew, she might never even see Gawain again after she left Hadrian's Wall.

To take her mind off of the confusing attraction she felt toward him, she turned her eyes to his weapon instead. It was well designed, and judging by the slightly worn handle, it was obvious it had seen a lot of time in battle.

"That is a fine weapon," Breck said as she wiped her hands on a stained rag and strolled over to him. He glanced up as she approached, his eyes a piercing shade of blue in the morning sun. Firmly shoving down any lingering nervousness, she held a hand out to him palm up. "May I?"

Gawain glanced at her, looked down at his axe, then slowly handed it over. Breck weighed it in her hands, turning it this way and that as she gave it a thorough lookover. "Did you craft this yourself?" she asked interestedly.

Gawain shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. My skills as a forger are quite lacking."

Breck nodded in understanding. "It would seem we have that in common. I confess that my own attempt to forge a battle axe was…quite dismal," she said, cringing as she remembered the complete failure of a weapon she'd tried to make in her teen years.

Gawain's head tilted curiously. "It is not common for a woman to try her hand at forging," he commented.

"This is true," Breck agreed, running a careful finger along the edge of the blade as she inspected the intricate designs that had been etched into the metal. "My father taught me…or rather, he attempted to teach me," she then explained. "He thought it would be useful knowledge for me to have. Unfortunately, the knowledge did me no good. I was horrid at it, much to his dismay," Breck admitted, smiling as she held out Gawain's weapon for him to take back.

Gawain took it and returned it to its holder. "It is not an easy feat, crafting a weapon from scratch. I shall not hold your lack of skills against you, so long as you return the favor."

Breck grinned. "Agreed."

Gawain smiled and tilted his head curiously. "How are you adjusting to life here at the Wall?" he asked.

"Well enough," Breck said with a nod. "Having Arthur close by makes it easier, as does the fact that a loud group of Sarmatian Knights has kept me very entertained," she added with a small smile.

Gawain laughed heartily. "And very drunk," he reminded with a point of his finger.

Breck couldn't help but laugh with him. "Yes, far more drunk than my body appreciates," she conceded. "Seems a miracle you lot have not drunk the tavern dry by now."

Gawain stood to his full height, that broad grin never leaving his face. "Tis not for lack of trying, I assure you."

As their conversation lulled, Breck realized just how close they now stood. They stared at each other in silence for a moment or two, Breck noticing for the first time just how much bigger than her he actually was. He stood probably five inches taller, and his height combined with his broad frame made her feel small next to him. She wouldn't say that she felt intimidated by him, because she had seen firsthand how kind, even playful, he could be. But Breck could certainly see how foes on the battlefield would be afraid of him – if she were facing off against him, she'd probably be a little worried too.

They finally looked away from one another when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, turning just in time to see Jols stepping into the stables. He froze in surprise for a second, his gaze darting between the two of them. Breck glanced at Gawain, then took a step away from him so Jols wouldn't get the wrong idea. She wasn't sure what to make of the look that passed over Gawain's face when she did so, but whatever it was he quickly concealed it.

"Good morning, Gawain," Jols finally said as he recovered from his surprise and stepped further into the stables.

"Good morning, Jols," Gawain said back.

"I passed Arthur on my way back here," Jols informed said, shifting his attention to Breck. "He asked that you meet him in the training arena now."

Breck nodded, happy for an excuse to get out of the awkward atmosphere now hovering over the stables. "Thank you, I shall head there at once," she said.

"I shall escort you," Gawain immediately offered, smiling at her gently. "I was headed there next anyway."

Before she could argue, he motioned for her to follow him and headed outside. She couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the view he presented when he walked away, admiring the muscles of his broad back and the way the sun glinted off his golden hair when he stepped outside.

Then a cough behind her very abruptly reminded her of the fact that Jols was still present.

Breck quickly glanced in her employer's direction to see if he had noticed her watching Gawain, hoping he hadn't. Unfortunately, he had. And at the moment, he was doing a poor job of trying to smother a knowing grin.

"You should go," Jols suggested, looking amused.

Breck shot him a look, then grabbed the bow she had brought with her to the stables and hurried after Gawain while her pride was still intact. She mentally scolded herself for ogling Gawain – and at being caught doing so by Jols – and firmly resolved that she would not let such a thing happen again. The last thing that she needed was Jols, or anyone else, spreading rumors that she had her sights set on Gawain. Her life was complicated enough as it was without the added irritation of being the subject of gossip.

Breck and Gawain started off toward the training arena. Just as had been the case when she had been walking with Dagonet, Breck noticed that the people in the streets parted to make way for Gawain as they saw him approaching. And just like Dagonet, Gawain also seemed to not notice this, further solidifying her belief that this was a common occurrence for the knights.

A couple of morally questionable looking women eyed Gawain as the two of them walked past the brothel, but he paid them no mind and kept his attention focused on Breck. She, however, did not miss the death glares they shot in her direction at stealing the man's interest.

"You mentioned your father again, back there in the stables," Gawain said to break the silence and pull her into conversation. "Will you tell me about him?"

"What do you wish to know?" Breck asked.

"Anything you wish to tell me," Gawain said with a shrug.

Breck thought about it for a moment, unsure just how much she wanted to reveal. So far, she had avoided going into detail about her family in the hope that her lineage could be kept a secret for just a little while longer, just in case it made her new friends think differently of her. But at his question, a dozen memories of her father flashed through her mind, memories of happier times they had spent together. She felt a fond smile slip onto her face, and she found that she wanted to talk about her father.

"He was a fearsome man to behold," she told him.

"A trait he appears to have passed along to his daughter," Gawain remarked with a smirk. "Tis not just anyone who can handle being in the company of Sarmatian Knights."

"Of that I have no doubt," she agreed with a gentle laugh. "My father was a warrior for the whole of his life, a fighter through and through. Yet, his fierceness was reserved for the battlefield alone," Breck said. "At home he was kind and gentle, and he loved me and my mother very much. He was a good man," she insisted with a nod. "Actually, he was a great man."

"A warrior, yet also a family man," Gawain mused, his eyes turning forward as a pensive frown made its way onto his face.

Breck glanced over at him, unsure what to make of his apparent uncertainty. "Is that an oddity to you?" she asked curiously.

Gawain looked down at her, then nodded. "I confess that it is," he said honestly.

"Why?"

Gawain shook his head. "I have never believed it to be a possibility," he admitted. "I have been a Knight, a warrior, here at Hadrian's Wall for fifteen years. I have repeatedly laid my life on the line, fighting in more battles than I can count. There have even been times where I truly believed I would die. As long as I continue to live this life, as long as I continue to live with such risk, the idea of a family seems…preposterous to me. How could I provide for them? How could I give them a stable life? What if I cannot even live long enough to be with them?"

"Bors has done so," Breck pointed out. In fact, Breck had come to learn that Bors was the only knight to have a family of his own. He and Vanora were not technically married, no, but they were certainly husband and wife in every other regard, and had an entire army of children to prove it.

Gawain shook his head before clicking his tongue. "And how Bors handles it, I have no idea," he said. Then he looked down at her again, his expression guarded. "Do you think me foolish for thinking this way?"

His question held a slightly defensive tone to it, but she could sense that it was only because Gawain had opened up to her about something very personal and was now feeling vulnerable because of it. But there would be no judgment from Breck, because she could understand why Gawain would feel the way he did – it was the exact same way she felt about the idea of committing herself to someone while her sights were still so set on the Saxon that had murdered her family. She could not imagine dragging someone she loved into her dangerous, unstable life, let alone bringing a child into such a tumultuous situation.

"No," she told him without hesitation. "I do not."

He nodded to her, looking relieved that she understood.

"And what of your mother?" Gawain asked to change the subject after they had walked in silence for a few moments. "You have spoken of your father and told stories from when the two of you lived here in the past, but I have not heard you speak of your mother."

Breck frowned and looked elsewhere, a heavy feeling entering her heart just as it always did whenever she thought of her mother. "She was…an extraordinary woman," Breck told him sincerely. "She was fearsome in her own way. Unwaveringly kind, very brave, and she loved unconditionally." Then she frowned and glanced down at her shoes. "I did not have her in my life for long. She died when I was just a girl."

"I am sorry to hear that," Gawain said sincerely. "If I may ask, how did she die?"

Cerdic's face immediately floated through her thoughts, followed quickly by the face of his horrid son Cynric, making a red-hot feeling of hatred form in the pit of her stomach. "She was murdered by Saxons," she revealed, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and failing.

Gawain seemed shocked at first, then troubled by the revelation. He also looked as though he very much wanted to question her about it further, but by now they had reached the training arena, so he kept whatever questions he had to himself. Breck was glad he did not have the chance to pry – she was not ready to divulge the entire, tragic tale of her family just yet.

The training arena was fairly large. To one side sat a small shack, which she knew to be a storage room for old weapons that the soldiers in town, and sometimes the knights, used during training or in case of emergencies. Right next to the shack was a clustering of benches, so people – or instructors – could watch others practicing their swordplay or archery. A number of large, human-shaped blocks of wood that had seen many hard days were stationed on the side opposite of the weapons shack – men honed their swordsmanship skills with those. Breck had to smile as she gazed upon the large, worn dummies, suddenly bombarded with memories of her and Arthur attacking them with sticks while they pretended to fight in fierce, history changing battles.

There were also some targets for archery set up on the far side of the arena, and it was there that she spotted Arthur. He was not alone, either. He was surrounded by four lanky boys, who all seemed to be intently listening to whatever he was saying to them.

Breck started that way, and Gawain walked with her for a bit. They were just about to pass the weapons shack when Galahad suddenly stepped out, holding a few different weapons, as well as the tools to sharpen them with. Breck paused and quirked her eyebrow at the sight of the tools, then glanced over at Gawain, wondering why he'd chosen to tend to his axe in the stables when he could have easily done so at the training arena. He had even said he'd already planned to come to the arena, so why the extra stop?

Had he come to the stables just for her?

Gawain must have felt her questioning gaze, because he cleared his throat, said he was going to go speak with Galahad, and then strode away so fast that she was surprised he didn't kick up a cloud of dust in his wake. It seemed suspicious to her, very suspicious, but she decided not to overthink it too much.

After a wave and call of greeting to Galahad, who smiled brightly and waved in return, Breck went to meet Arthur. As she neared him, she eyed her new pupils, who were all clutching bows in their hands and had quivers of arrows at their feet. For some reason, when Arthur had referred to them as lads, she had imagined them being older. But these boys – and truly, they were boys – could not have been older than thirteen. Two of them even looked younger, their faces still boasting baby fat that had not yet melted away with puberty.

"Hello again, my friend," Arthur greeted as she joined them, smiling down at her with twinkling green eyes. "And I thank you for joining us so swiftly," he added.

"Of course," she said, still eyeing the boys in front of her. "Rather young to be trained for fighting, my Lord," Breck told Arthur neutrally.

"No younger than you and I were," Arthur reminded her just as diplomatically, and he did have a point. "Besides, this is not about just fighting. This is about survival. About being able to put food on the table when times get hard," he said with a meaningful look.

Breck nodded once, conceding to him that he was right. He patted her back briefly, then clasped his hands together behind his back as he turned his attention to the boys.

"Lads, today begins your training in archery. It is a skill that you will find will save your life in many, many ways. This is one of my dearest friends, Breck," he introduced, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She is a skilled fighter, as well as a skilled hunter, and she will be your instructor for the foreseeable future," he explained.

The boys all looked at her with wide eyes, all of them looking more than a little nervous to be standing in the training arena with the great Arthur Castus – a nervousness that was not helped when the young lads noticed Gawain and Galahad loitering not so far away. Breck just offered a friendly smile in return, hoping to put them at ease.

"Breck will be teaching you the basic fundamentals to begin with, and progress as she sees fit," Arthur continued, making the boys look back to him. "You will do as she says, when she says, and you will treat her with as much respect as you would any other superior. Your training will be complete when she deems you ready."

The boys made sounds of understanding and then started preparing for the training ahead. While they fixed the quivers to their backs and made sure there was nothing amiss with their bows, Breck placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and ushered him off to the side.

"You are certain I am the one most capable to train these boys?" Breck asked him in a low voice so that the boys would not overhear. "I do not wish to be a disappointment.

Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder. "I chose you because I have faith in your skill and am confident you will be a good teacher to the young lads," he said with a nod. "After all you have done and seen, I should think they will have much to learn from you."

Breck nodded her head, encouraged by Arthur's vote of confidence.

The boys were ready to begin their first lesson, but were obviously intimidated and kept shooting wary glances toward Gawain and Galahad. The two knights had just started savagely slashing away at the wooden training dummies, sparring far more intensely than she might have expected. Breck wondered if they were doing it on purpose, just to try to scare the boys.

If so, it was working.

Sensing that her students would not be able to concentrate with the two knights loitering nearby – Breck herself wasn't so comfortable with the thought of them watching her instruct the small group, either – she turned to eye the rolling fields around the arena. It wasn't long before she was struck with an idea.

"If I am to train them, I wish to do so in my own way," she told Arthur.

"I would expect no less," Arthur said with a nod. "I have faith in your methods, friend, whatever they may be."

"Marvelous," Breck said with a bright smile, before whistling at the boys to catch their attention. "Lads! Bring your weapons and grab a target!" she called to them. "We are going elsewhere!"

Arthur frowned as the boys hurried to do as they were told, quirking a brow at her quizzically. "Where are you taking them?" he asked.

"Away from those two," she answered, glancing pointedly at Galahad and Gawain, who she decided were definitely going out of their way to look tough and fearsome in front of the boys. "These boys are frightened out of their wits to even be here. The last thing they need is a couple of nosy Sarmatians loitering about making them even more nervous. I shall take them out into that field," Breck said, pointing toward an open space some fifty yards away. "They will be more comfortable and will learn faster."

Arthur nodded, looked down at her proudly, and then ruffled her hair. "See? You are doing splendidly already," he said with a smile, easily dodging her when she tried to swat his hand away in annoyance.

With that, Arthur left her to join his knights, calling out a few last, encouraging words to the boys as he went. Breck had to suppress a laugh when her new students came to join her, each holding a target far bigger than themselves and looking like they might tip over at any moment. She didn't offer trying to help any of the boys carry them, however – they had to build up muscle somehow, so far as she was concerned.

The boys watched her expectantly, awaiting further instruction. Breck glanced at Arthur and the Sarmatians one last time then jerked her head toward the field. "Alright, then, this way!" Breck said cheerfully, trying to ease their apprehension, before setting off with her new students.

OOO

Much to her relief, she had been correct in predicting that the boys would be more comfortable once they were away from Arthur, Galahad, and Gawain. They relaxed considerably as they set up in the field near the edge of the forest, far away from prying eyes, and were able to focus much easier on their lesson.

Breck started slow, making sure that they first at least knew how to nock an arrow, which thankfully, they did – she would have been genuinely concerned if they hadn't. She then wanted to see how their aim was, which turned out to be quite horrible. A few arrows managed to find the targets, but most of them went sailing clean past, landing in the shrubs and forestry surrounding their position instead. She tried not to feel too discouraged. After all, she had been no better when she had first been starting out. Just as the case with anything else, it would take a little time, a little patience, and a great deal of practice.

After a few hours of target practice, Breck could tell that the boys were starting to become frustrated with their lack of archery skills. With a sigh, she finally decided to end the lesson before they became too discouraged and instructed them to carry the targets back to the arena. When that was done, she told them to put their weapons away in the weapon shack and then dismissed them for the day.

Breck lingered behind to make sure there were no stray arrows left in the forest, then went back to the training arena to make sure the boys had returned everything to its rightful place. Everyone was gone, leaving the training arena empty, and she was actually rather glad for the moment of solitude. Breck had originally planned to return to the stables now that her lesson was over to see if Jols needed any help, but she quickly changed her mind, deciding to take advantage of the fact that she had the arena all to herself and get in a little extra target practice of her own.

She set up one of the targets the boys had used then took a stance about twenty yards in front of it, sliding her bow from her shoulder. After nocking an arrow and taking quick aim, she released it, watching as it sailed and landed just short of center.

Breck started firing arrow after arrow, feeling soothed by the familiar feeling of pulling back the bow string and releasing the arrow with a quick whip. The rest of the world faded to the background, and her mind cleared of most thoughts. For once, she was not thinking about Cerdic or her hatred for him, nor her mission to put him in the dirt. She did not think about Arthur, or her work at the stables, or anything like that.

She did, however, find herself suddenly thinking about Gawain.

What was it, exactly, that she felt towards Gawain? Friendship? Admiration? Lust? Breck honestly couldn't say for sure. Gawain seemed a decent man and was undeniably handsome. She enjoyed being around him, and believed he was someone she could befriend and trust.

But could he be more than that? Did she even want him to be more than that? And furthermore, what was it that he felt towards her? She wasn't blind or stupid – she had caught him staring at her more than once during dinner the night before, and she certainly couldn't overlook the possibility that he had purposefully sought out her company that morning in the stables. What did that mean, though?

All of these new feelings and unanswered questions were beginning to frustrate her already.

Breck frowned and fired another arrow, watching as it landed a few inches away from the center.

Why was she even letting herself fret over this attraction to Gawain in the first place? She had not come to Hadrian's Wall to find a man – she had come to see Arthur and take respite before continuing on with her mission. Her only concern should be trying to find and kill Cerdic, not thinking about Gawain and trying to figure out what it was that he made her feel.

Breck released another arrow, smiling with satisfaction when it landed dead center this time.

Suddenly she felt the wind of something flying right past her, so close that she could hear the whistle of it cutting through the air. Breck watched as another arrow, one that she had not fired, landed so close to hers that the feathers at the tail actually touched. She was frozen with shock and confusion for but a nanosecond, her eyes trained on the arrow that had just sailed mere inches from her head. Then, in the blink of an eye, she had an arrow nocked and had whipped around to aim it at whoever had shot that other arrow so close to her.

Her eyes immediately landed on a man standing by the door to the weapons shack. As he lowered his own bow, he looked neither surprised, nor concerned, by the arrow currently pointed in his direction. He stood tall and had broad shoulders, with a tanned complexion, and dark hair that brushed his shoulders in what looked like tangles. A dark beard smattered with specks of gray covered the lower half of his face, and he watched her with dark eyes. What stood out most about him, however, were the dark tribal markings on his high cheekbones.

Breck knew in an instant that this was the same man who had been watching her the day before. She had not imagined him after all.

"Who are you?" she asked, not lowering her bow even an inch. He did not answer, simply stared at her with a blank, unreadable expression that she couldn't even begin to decipher. His lack of response irked her. "I said, who are you?" she demanded a second time.

"I am Tristan," he finally said.

Breck's bow lowered purely out of surprise.

So this was the mysterious Tristan she had been hearing about. She immediately thought back to how Jols had described Arthur's scout and found that his observation was entirely correct. Without even knowing him, she could tell immediately that Tristan seemed different from the other knights. The rest of the men were loud, boisterous, and quite friendly, but nothing about Tristan seemed friendly at all. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, or perhaps it was the way his sharp, perceptive eyes regarded her in a way that hinted he did not trust her any further than he could throw her. Whatever it was, she felt an immediate coldness from him that the other men did not possess.

It unnerved her that he had snuck up on her so easily, and the fact that she could not read his expression, and therefore had no idea what might be going through his head, only unnerved her even more. That he had been watching her the day before and was there now only further fueled that uneasiness.

"You have been following me," she said firmly, refusing to show any vulnerability in front of him. "Why?"

"Arthur ordered me to," Tristan answered simply. He had a noticeable accent, one that sounded very different from the rest of the men. It was more exotic, leading her to believe that he was from a different part of Sarmatia than the others.

Breck frowned with confusion. "Why would Arthur order you to follow me?" she asked.

"If you have a concern, speak with Arthur about it," he said flatly.

Breck was completely taken aback by his curt manner at first, then felt an unmistakable swell of anger. "And he ordered you to nearly shoot me with an arrow?" she demanded, pointing a finger toward the arrow that had whizzed past her head mere moments ago.

Tristan's expression did not budge. "I hit the target that I aimed for," he said simply.

Then he turned and started toward the gate of the arena without another word, leaving Breck to stare at his retreating back, completely dumbfounded, until he was gone and she was alone once more.

What in the world had just happened?

After the way she had been received by the other knights, she had thought that perhaps Arthur's elusive scout would have at least been somewhat friendly to her. That he had treated her so coldly and been so rude caught her completely off guard and made her feel more than a little confused. Perhaps if she had wronged him in some way, or if she had insulted him, she would have understood it. But this was the first time they had met, and he had treated her like she was nothing more than muck beneath his boots, as if her being at Hadrian's Wall was some great inconvenience to him. The way he had behaved had been completely unwarranted.

Breck's confusion quickly melted back into anger. If Tristan disliked her so much already, then why had he decided to talk to her, or even make his presence known in the first place? Clearly he had wanted to get her attention with his little arrow stunt, but why? He could have simply stayed in the shadows, like the day before, and she might not have ever known he was there. Why even bother going through with their interaction at all?

Breck scowled and roughly took the arrow she had nocked and returned it into the quiver on her back. She had been curious about Tristan before, even a little eager to meet him so she could finally put a face to the name. But now she found that she wished they had never crossed paths at all.

Forget the man, Breck urged herself. There are more important matters to worry about.

Breck slung her bow over her shoulder and then stalked out of the training arena, carelessly kicking the gate shut behind her in her temper.

Never mind Tristan and his brusque manner. She needed to have a talk with her dear friend Arthur and find out why in the world he was having her followed in the first place.

See you next Friday!