Squire of Malachite

I never liked the smell of rain. The thickness of the air as it entered my nostrils. There was always something off about sensations associated with it. Wet. Cold. It could be summed up as soggy. Uncomfortable was the broader word for it. And that evening, uncomfortable was all I knew. The rain just wouldn’t stop pouring down as I rode on the backseat of a horse with my knight, Yverr, riding in front.

“You look cold,” Yverr spoke. “You can hold on for a bit longer. We are almost there.”

“Because acknowledging that I’m cold is supposed to help me get warm. Right, Yverr?” I responded dryly.

“Would it kill you to call me ‘Sir’ every once in a while?”

I exaggerated an expression of looking up and placing a hand on my chin as if I considered the thought. “Well, I don’t know. But let’s hope that it’ll be after we arrive at the House. You wouldn’t want to carry my corpse all the way back, would you?”

“I suppose that that may not be ideal,” my knight sighed. “My point is that I can see the watchtower of the House from here. So just hold on.”

He never knew how to respond to sarcasm. But that’s what made it a little more enjoyable for me.

Yverr of Malachite, the most decorated knight within the House, was looked upon by many as the greatest knight the House could offer. He was the definition of a knight: long brown hair that was braided to perfection, a beard that was trimmed and well-maintained, dragon-scale armor that was polished and a horse that ran faster than any other horse the House owned.

And me? By the way I called him “my knight,” it may seem like I’m some sort of lord.

But no. I couldn’t be any further from that.

I am Arquell of Malachite, Yverr’s squire—if people could even believe that I was this knight’s squire—and I could possibly be the worst squire the House had to show.

Admittedly, I was this scrawny young adult and no amount of conditioning seemed to fix it. I tried, trust me. My technique with weapons wasn’t anywhere near remarkable either. Calling it sloppy was generous so I guess we could go with sloppy. Whatever weapon I held posed more of a threat to myself than to my opponent. My mystic channeling—it was amateur at best. And my mystic refinement was nonexistent.

In a world where magic was used for all sorts of tasks that went beyond combat, it would be understandable to think that a person like me was doomed. Now, I would have wanted to rebut that thought. But no. I was hopeless.

Was I looked down upon?

Most definitely.

Did it get better as I aged?

Most definitely not.

The residents of the House never knew how to interact with me, either. Actually, they never bothered to interact with me at all. After all, I wasn’t born within the House of Malachite to begin with. No origin. Abandoned before the gates of the House. I was never theirs. It was beyond obvious. And I guess having me grow up to become the oldest squire of the House didn’t gain anyone’s approval either. Everyone my age was either knighted or serving the House in ways better than following a knight wherever he wished to go and riding off his glory.

BANG!

A cannon was fired from the House of Malachite.

The rain had toned down into a drizzle.

“I don’t see any soldiers invading,” I sluggishly looked around. “Misfire? Someone’s probably gonna spend the night in the pit.”

“There’s a celebration ongoing,” Yverr said.

“Did that old hag die already? Maybe this day wasn’t so bad.”

Yverr swung his arm around his back, hitting me on the head.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry.” I rubbed the spot he struck.

“Someone’s been knighted.”

“Oh, great,” dryly would be an understatement to my tone. “Who is it this time?”

“Take a look ahead. On the walls of the House.”

“Yeah, I—I’d rather not.”

“Suit yourself. You will be greeting him anyway.”

We arrived in front of a large gate that was opened beforehand by watchmen who spotted our approach.

“The House of Malachite welcomes you back, Sir!” the guards around the gate greeted. It was directed at my knight. As if they didn’t notice the squire behind him. “Excited to see the little trinkets you have brought this time.”

“Good to be back,” said Yverr. “Unfortunately, a certain someone forgot to pack them before we had left our post earlier.”

“I too-also-certainly recall no one telling me to pack them,” I protested.

“No worries, Sir,” the guard assured. “The celebration is being held at the House Manor.”

The House of Malachite—and all other Houses around the Kingdom of Ekire—weren’t exactly houses. The term “House” referred to a group of associated buildings that were in close proximity to one another. The term village or settlement was a word that described what a House was: an area of land governed by a Lord or Monarch who was appointed directly by the king of Ekire himself.

Like villages, Houses were self-sufficient for the most part. Food. Clothing. Weaponry. The people of the House had the capacity to provide for themselves.

Outside of trading, everything came from within the House. Which meant that gaining something from the king’s office would make a House all the more richer. That’s where knights came in. Unlike ordinary laborers, they received funds that came from the office of the king himself after they had completed their quests. Whether it was a quest to clear a dungeon or a simple patrol, funds would be delivered.

We made it to the stables.

“You did great, Bagel. Get some rest,” Yverr stroked the base of the horse’s neck and turned his head towards me. “Shall we go, Arquell?”

“Yeah, no,” I rubbed Bagel’s ears. When we were entering the House, I had seen tarpaulins giving me a clue as to who had just been knighted. Going in to join the celebration was a straight up no.

“I think I—I think I’d rather stay here. Watch over Bagel and all that,” I reasoned, trying to make up an excuse.

“I believe Bagel will do just fine.” Yverr wrapped an arm around me and dragged me towards the manor of the House.

“You know I don’t like parties,” I reminded him as we entered the manor.

“No man is an island. And it shouldn’t hurt to give a simple congratulations to Corr for making it to the knighthood.”

“Actually, I think it would hurt,” I managed to break free from his arm and turned towards the exit. “I never really got along with him when he was a squire. I don’t think that’ll change. So I think I’ll be heading this way.”

“How about this,” Yverr proposed. I sensed bribery. “Congratulate Corr and I’ll get you some of that garlic bread you like later.”

Garlic bread. I hate that he knew how much I loved it. Now, he got to use it as a trap. And I would have willingly fallen for it. I looked up towards the ceiling, asking for lightning to strike me down right then and there. “Fiiine.”

“Great!” my knight looked pleased.

“I’ll do it within the night but don’t rush me,” I said.

“I shall leave you to it then.” Off Yverr went towards the side of the hall where other knights of the House were.

I took a look around before deciding what to do.

The great hall of the manor was a large rectangular room located near the main entrance of the manor itself. A golden chandelier swung above the center of the hall. Lux crystals were placed on sconces—those metallic light sources that were mounted on walls normally used for torches—to illuminate the jade green pillars and cream colored walls. Tables were scattered around randomly for guests to gather and a large buffet table was located at the center of the hall. Older knights gathered around the far end while younger knights and squires stood by one of the bars found at the corners of the hall.

It didn’t take long before I had realized how awkwardly long I stood in one spot, staring at everything. And everyone.

I sighed and walked towards the tables.

You’re lucky that I’ve been craving some garlic bread, Corr, my inner voice muttered.

On a table near the bar, a number of squires gathered around Corr, the dubbed celebrant. Wine and other alcoholic drinks spilled across the floors as cheers echoed across the hall.

I attempted to approach the group but decided to change course towards the bar. Almost involuntarily.

Yeah, I’ll congratulate him later, I decided and took a seat.

I had no clue on how to congratulate someone I never liked. Would it even be considered congrats?

“A drink, squire?” the bartender asked so suddenly, it made me jolt.

“Uh—yes please,” I looked at the selection of various drinks within transparent barrels on the shelf behind the bartender. “I’ll have—umm. I’ll have…”

I squinted. My eyesight wasn’t bad or anything. I just thought it would give me more time to make a choice. I gave up. “Actually, what would you recommend?”

“Light ale it is, then,” the bartender poured a drink on a tankard and slid it across the wooden table.

“Thanks.” I took a sip before proceeding to drink a fourth of the way down the tankard.

Bitter, I thought. But still better than having to congratulate—

“Oh, look. He’s back! We didn’t even—hic—notice!” Corr’s voice was loud and high-pitched for a person of his age.

This was bound to happen, my inner voice sighed.

I turned my head towards the group of young knights and squires who moved aside allowing me to look directly at Corr.

Being son of the lord of the House of Malachite, Corr had a lot of respect under his name. From an early age, he was showered with everything he needed. Good equipment, good food, and a number of friends. Of course, those “friends” of his mostly stayed close because of his title as the lord’s son but he had company nonetheless.

It’s now or never, I guess.

I raised my tankard, unintentionally spilling some of the drink on the floor. “Forgot to say…”

I had to swallow before I continued, “Congrats—on the knighthood and all that!”

It didn’t sound like I meant it. Maybe because I didn’t.

“Cut the merr, Arquell,” Corr’s voice slurred. “You never were good at lying—acting all congratulatory and all. We both—hic—know you’re only doing this out of formality.”

“I’d just take the congrats if I were you,” I set my tankard down. “So we can each go our separate ways and enjoy the rest of this night.”

“Caaan’t stand me enough to strike a conversaaation, squire?” Corr’s voice got more slurred and annoying. “Or you caaan’t stand seeing people get kniiighted?”

I knit my brows, leaving a confused expression on my face. What is he on?

“I don’t care if you’re the squire of the most decorated knight of the House,” Corr raised his head as if to physically look down at me. “A knight’s living backpack is still just that: a living backpack!”

Uncalled for.

“Traveling is—hic—tiring, isn’t it?” Corr croaked. “The best knight of the House is known to travel a lot.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?”

“I just have a—what’s it called? Aaah! A proposal!”

“Not interested, thanks.”

“Oh, c’mon, living backpack,” Corr paused. “If you ever get tired of carrying his stuff around, maybe you could caaarry my stuff next—hic—time.”

I thought of just leaving him be. But something was knocking at the back of my mind, I could have some fun with this.

“Don’t think too much about it, squire!” Corr didn’t realize how loud he was getting. “If you train for maaaybe ten more years, you’ll probably get into the knighthood too.”

“Yeah, hopefully you would’ve developed a personality by then,” I looked Corr in the eye.

“That’s a lot of talk coming from the oldest living squire in Ekire!” Corr looked infuriated.

“And that’s a lot of talk coming from a bastard who paid his way to knighthood. You gonna make papa carry out your quests for you too?”

“Oh, you don’t want this, Twig.” Corr tapped a scabbard on the table—which contained his sword. “I won’t even need to use my sword’s enchantment to silence someone like you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” sarcasm radiated through my voice almost naturally. “Gonna make papa pay for a bounty on my head, are we?”

“I’ll carve a hole through your head!”

“Woah! Easy there now.” Yverr arrived at the scene. “You will have to excuse my squire there, young lord.”

I sighed. “The fun was just about to start.”

“I’ll see my squire outside.” Yverr put his hand around my shoulder and guided me towards the exit.

“I’ll be more than decorated compared to you one day!” Corr exclaimed as we were almost out.

“Not very likely,” I heard Yverr say under his breath.

The rain had stopped when my knight and I stepped foot outside. Yverr then sat me down on a wooden bench in a small park next to the manor.

The park had a few trees and different kinds of flowers scattered across patches of grass. There was no pavement or path around it. Just grass. It didn’t seem like the House wanted to invest labor into making the park anything beyond mediocre.

The wind blew cold as trees swayed to its harmony. Only Yverr and I were there to listen to it, though. No man was in sight.

“That wasn’t your worst scuffle, at least,” Yverr stroked his beard. “But it—”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to lecture me. I know. It was wrong,” I interrupted. I didn’t mind being lectured but I never liked it when it came from Yverr.

“You didn’t have to come, though,” I told him. “I could’ve handled—”

“Quite annoying, isn’t he?”

“Sorry, what?” I didn’t expect that.

“Corr. Annoying, isn’t he?”

Where is he going with this? I wondered.

“Personally, I find the young man annoying because of how desperately he clings to his title as the young lord of the House,” Yverr stated. “But that’s just my reason. What would yours be?”

I stared off into the flowers scattered around the park. Not a single word came from my mouth.

It got me thinking. I never wanted to admit this, but I guessed I really was jealous of a person like him. He may have been a bastard—at least by the rumors—but unlike me, he had people who were there for him… who were supportive of him. I know they were only with him because of his status but… at least he had someone. Unlike me, he was accepted. He had a place here.

“Arquell?” Yverr interrupted my train of thought.

“Oh, s-sorry?” my voice cracked. I hated it when it did that.

“Did you at least congratulate him?”

I rolled my lips before speaking, trying to sound unfazed. “I mean, before he started yapping about this and that… Yeah. I did.”

“Then a deal is a deal,” Yverr took out a plastic container with a few pieces of garlic bread inside. “As promised, my squire.”

A subtle smile couldn’t help but appear on my face before I quickly forced it to shift it back to unfazed. “Thanks, Yverr.”

“Still no ‘Sir’?” Yverr scratched his lower chin. “Oh well, that would be alright.”

The knight stood up and handed me some papers. “If you don’t want to socialize tonight, you might as well write our quest log. I have to give that to the lord of Malachite first thing in the morning.”

Yverr headed back inside.

“Yes, Sir,” I said as softly as I could. The wind sweeping the sound of my words away. Though I kind of wished he heard them.

The wind blew softer as any sign of rain disappeared from the area. Inside, the party went on as I wrote out details of our quest outside.

To conclude, the perimeter of the lands surrounding the House of Malachite were marked clear, having no signs of any potential threats to the safety of the House.

That’s probably good enough, I told myself.

“Meow.” a black cat climbed down from the tree behind the bench I was sitting on. Before proceeding to sit beside me.

“Avoiding the party too?” I said to the cat in a tone softer than my usual.

The cat began to sniff the garlic bread within the container next to me. It looked hungry.

I grabbed the container. Wait. Is garlic an ‘okay thing’ for cats? I considered the thought.

The cat meowed as if to beg for food.

“I don’t know if this can kill you but eating something and then dying is better than starving to death.” I grabbed a piece of bread and put it in the cat’s mouth. “Probably.”

“Scirre Mortux” a voice whispered.

“Sorry, what was that?” I looked at the cat, confused.

“Dumekithutat.”

It didn’t come from the cat.

I looked around the park. There was no person in sight—just as it was when Yverr and I arrived.

The voice was faint: something that couldn’t be heard if other people were talking. Like the light breeze that cold night.

Shivers shot down my spine. Why were whispers surrounding me? Had I begun losing my mind?

I glanced at the cat who was still there munching on the bread that was given to it.

Was it only me?

A sharp pain struck the back of my head as my vision began to blacken. Slowly, I lost my balance. The world spun. My head began to weigh a ton, causing me to collapse. I thought the ground would greet my body without any support but to my surprise, I fell… in place—to a standing position. As if I had never fallen.

I looked around the park—except I wasn’t in the park anymore. Not even in the House. Nothing was familiar.

It was hot. But why wouldn’t it be?

Around me was a place that was ravaged by flames. Fire consumed buildings and all signs of life along with it. Black smoke raced to the sky. Swords of the fallen were scattered across the land. Their honor, forgotten.

Bodies laid lifeless. I tried not to look. But there was this odd feeling—I was satisfied seeing them like that. Mean may be a term I described myself as but to be that heartless, it couldn’t have been me.

Stomp.

Shivers went down my spine once again as I heard footsteps around me. At least, I thought they were around me. But I soon realized they came from a distance.

As I turned my head, I saw men walking towards me. I couldn’t quite make out their faces because of all the smoke. However, I at least recognized the dragon-scale armor that they wore. Scabbards hung from the sides of some while others held onto bows.

A man wearing black dragon-scale armor with a white tooth-like pattern around the sides took a few steps forward and stared in my direction. His eyes were shining with passion like the flames surrounding him.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” the man said. His foreign accent added to his already dramatic tone of voice. It was strange—how a voice could be so dramatic yet so… casual. But this wasn’t directed at me at all. Rather, the greeting seemed to be spoken for someone behind me.

Quickly, I turned my head but all I saw was the manor of the House. I was back at the park—though not where I stood prior.

I turned my head back at the man. But no man was there. Only the black cat that had eaten all the garlic bread. It was visibly frightened. And I was clearly the source.

As I attempted to take a step towards the cat, it had already run back up the tree that it emerged from. Almost like a blur leaving nothing behind. Not even a single piece of garlic bread.

“Not even a ‘thank you?’” I sassed.

The wind blew carrying leaves across the park. But it wasn’t just leaves. A feeling. One that made me uncomfortable with breathing. There wasn’t a scent but there might as well have been. If anything, it was a sensation up my nose. It was thick, like inhaling smoke.

Something outside the wall whistled. It sounded small and quick. Like the whispers I heard, it too was faint. If more people were in the park, not a soul would notice the sound. But there it was—a whistle that grew louder.

It was coming fast.

The sound continued to grow louder before a flash of light struck my eyes.

BANG!