1"Gods damn it!" Leon cried, yanking the helmet from his head and chucking it at the slate gray wall. For the third time in a row Blaise had won their duel and stood with his cocky grin. The ginger moved forward and Leon grudgingly shook his hand.
"You've been dropping the ball lately, Leon." Blaise said with a chuckle.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The dark haired youth grumbled, "I'll ruin you next time, for sure."
"Yeah, we'll see." Blaise said sarcastically, poking the long copper rod into Leon's ribs, flaring the his temper, "You just can't stand to lose."
"Then let's go now." Leon said, walking toward his helmet and pulling it back on his head. He turned toward the barrel-chested guard and knocked the rod against his shield, producing a tinny clang.
"Are you sure about this?" Blaise sighed, restrapping his training helmet, "It could just be because of your headaches."
"I could have a knife in my head and still beat you." Leon baited with a grin.
"Gonna be like that..." Blaise relented, walking toward Leon and twirling the rod.
Leon bent his knees, feeling the armor shift with his limbs. He trained his eyes upon the whirling stick of copper, preparing to knock away any attack his opponent may make.
Blaise swung the rod toward Leon in a wide arc but was deflected by Leon's shield. Leon took a step in and tried to drive the tip into Blaise's belly, but the man ducked to the side and Leon's attack sailed into empty air.
Leon followed his momentum and rolled across the cobble floor. From behind he could hear as Blaise's rod struck the ground. He clumsily stood up and turned toward Blaise, keeping close watch on the rust colored weapon.
Blaise raised his leg and kicked out, driving the wind from Leon's lungs and sending him to his knees. He only hardly parried the downward strike that his opponent offered, grunting from his lifeless lungs as he did so. He gasped for air and swatted the rod away, rising to a single knee and swinging the blade toward Blaise's neck. His eyes wide, Blaise skipped backward, but not quickly enough to avoid the attack.
A flush of joy coursed through Leon, his adrenaline spiking his emotion into a fierce peak. He pulled the helmet from his head once again and smiled at Blaise who absently rubbed a hand over his rapidly bruising neck.
"Told you I'd win." Leon laughed, jabbing his chin at Blaise.
"Good job, you beat me one time. Please let me bow down to you, oh great master." Blaise scoffed.
"Now who doesn't like to lose?" Leon said playfully.
"Uh huh, yeah. Shut it." Blaise muttered. "Hey, careful, the captain is coming.
Leon snapped to an attentive position as soon as he could and felt the captain coming through the vibrations in the floor. Captain Richard Janacek was a hulk of a man that seemed to stand just shy of a hundred feet and had shoulders just as wide. He was by no means fat, instead having the natural predisposition of looking like a bear, hairy arms and all. Famous for his temper, the man was a legend among the guards for his dismantling punches.
He came to Leon and a clamped a powerful hand on his shoulder.
"Ow's da trainin'" He said in his growly voice.
"Very good." Leon replied. He didn't share the same fear and admiration for the man as his peers. Many times he wanted to ask the man where he got his strange accent, but could find a way to bring it up.
"dat's vurry good." Janacek said, "wouldn't want you goen' soft."
"Certainly not. In fact I just took care of Blaise here in a practice match." Leon said. Janacek looked from the dark haired guard to the red.
"Ya let this skenny tweg beat ya?" He asked in surprise.
"Well, I beat him three times before he-"
"Ya thenk that mattuhs!?" Janacek cried, "Ef et were real, you'd be dead and e'd stell be aleve!"
"Yes, sir" Blaise replied dejectedly.
Leon let out a laugh and smiled at Blaise. Then he felt all the air explode from his lungs for the second time as the captain slammed his fist into Leon's stomach. He fell to the ground and clawed at his chest while little drips of saliva fell from his mouth.
"Don't beh laughen' when I speak!" Janacek commanded, walking away. "Get outta here, the lot o' ya."
"Janacek needs to calm down." Leon muttered, rubbing his stomach ruefully, "He about killed me."
"Eh, he needs to be like that. If he wasn't no one would respect him." Blaise replied.
"Well, he's still a giant dick. Or a little dick, whichever is worse." Leon said, "Anyway, what are you doing later?"
"Just resting in the bunks. It has been too long of a day." Blaise answered.
"All right. I think I'm gonna head off. There's a few hours of daylight left and I want to milk them for what they're worth."
"All right. Bye." Blaise said.
"Later."
Leon turned left and went down the gray hallway with a cheerful gait. The day had gone well so far and he intended for it to continue in this path. Unfortunately, within a few minutes he felt the onset of one of his headaches.
The aches had come with increasing frequency since they had begun just a few months ago and were unlike any of the usual headaches he'd experienced. Instead of just a low throbbing it was as if someone had let loose a wild ferret in his brain and it was clawing desperately through his grey matter to escape. He'd been to the infirmary several times for it, though Certs had been unable to give him much aid for it. Just prescribed a remedy of bed rest and water and sent the guard on his way.
He sighed aloud and wondered absently if he should follow Blaise's lead and just go to the bunks.
"Ahh, yes! There's one!" A reedy voice said behind him, driving a stake into Leon's subconscioius, "You there! Guardsman!"
Leon turned and saw Orion, the castle alchemist, dressed in his usual white and green robes and standing in front of a small group of guards. Tufts of cloud-like white hair bobbed on the top of his spotted scalp and he walked as quickly as his creaking bones could carry him.
"Er, yes?" Leon asked, "Do you need something?"
"Yes, yes, that is why I called you." Orion said impatiently, as though angered that Leon didn't already know what he was to do.
"Well, what is it?" Leon said, doing his best to maintain his temper.
"I have a caravan of supplies coming into the castle soon and need another man for the patrol to collect it. You happened to be around." The alchemist replied.
"How lucky of me." Leon said.
"Right!" Orion said joyfully, either not picking up on the guard's sarcasm or ignoring it all together. "The caravan will be coming in from Servi, so the Western entrance to the city. You'll just have the job of getting it to the castle all right. Think you can do that?"
"Of course, sir." Leon replied mechanically.
"Good. Follow along. Sir Ichabod owed me a favor, so you'll be working under quite an esteemed head of patrol."
Leon's disdain for the mission dissipated as quickly as water on hot coals. Sir Ichabod was Darabont's second most revered knight, just behind Roland Auten, the head of the knighthood. If he could impress the knight or even stand out, he could further his dream of becoming a knight.
He followed behind Orion, walking through a maze of hallways and corridors until they arrived at his study. Inside, the room was scented of smelling salts and chemicals and bookshelves and maps covered the walls. Various tables were set up with strange bubbling mixtures and the room was much warmer than the rest of the castle.
Three guards were assembled in the room, as well as a bored looking Ichabod. The blonde man leaned against the only bare portion of wall in the room, his pale yellow greatcoat falling to below his knees. A longsword hung at his waist. Leon offered the man a smile, one that was half-heartedly returned with a flash of Ichabod's white teeth.
One of the guards came forward and Leon recognized him as Carlyle, a good enough man. He handed Leon a spare sword and nodded at him.
"You get dragged along on this too?" he whispered lowly.
Leon nodded and shrugged, then jutted his head over at Ichabod.
"I know." Carlyle mouthed back.
"All right, men, I believe we are all here?" Ichabod called in a strong voice. "As you know, our most…honorable head alchemist has requested our assistance in bringing in a caravan of his goods. I believe we all know how this will be going, so let's go."
He headed from the room and the guards followed after, eager to bask in the aura the man put off. Even with his lack of enthusiasm the yellow knight cast a pleasant glow about him. It was like bathing in the sun on a clear day.
"So, how'd you get shafted into this, if you don't mind my asking, sir." Carlyle asked.
"Hmph!" Ichabod responded, "Three years back I needed a special, er, serum to be made. He did so, claiming I owed him a favor and I thought nothing of it. I figured he'd send me on some cross country mission to gather some rare blooming flower. Something exciting, you know? "
"And he thought that it was a good idea using your services to walk across the city?" Leon asked.
"I guess so." Ichabod sighed. "Once you get over seventy things just start to go, I think."
"A fair assertion, sir." Leon said.
"Please, by all means, just call me Ichabod. This mission is far too dull for formalities."
"Of course. I'm Leon, by the way. Leon Spiers." Leon said, extending his hand.
"A pleasure, Leon." Ichabod answered while shaking his hand. "A bit young for the guards, aren't you? How old?"
"youngest of the guards, sir. Seventeen." Leon said with a smile.
The knight clapped Leon on the shoulder and smiled.
"Good. Maybe you'll go places." Then, darkly, "The young common ones seem to, anyway."
"er, what sir?" Leon responded.
"Ichabod shook his head and told Leon to think nothing of it. Now I think we should get going."
They arrived at the far West corner of the city and waited for the supply cart to arrive. An hour after it was supposed to the derelict convoy pulled into the city's West gate, drawn by a gaggle of momonsters, a creature that was much like a squirrel, though the size of an ox and with anywhere from six to twelve large bushy tails. They chittered loudly and darted their heads about as if something new caught their attention with every passing second.
"Let's see if we can make this interesting." Ichabod said lowly enough that only Leon and Carlyle could hear.
Several men climbed out from the carts as they pulled to a stop, and the lead man came forward with a very wide smile. His short salt and pepper hair was hardly well maintained, with long patches floating into the air and all about. He stroked the head of one of the momonsters and nodded at Ichabod.
"You're late." Ichabod said.
"Oh are we?" The lead man said, rolling his eyes. "Thank you, good sir, for your input. Now the gold, if you would."
The man stuck out a grubby hand which was clad in a worn fingerless glove.
"Of course." Ichabod answered, pouring half the contents of a coin purse into the awaiting palm.
"Hey, this is only half of what we were promised." He said, counting the coins and recounting them.
"And you arrived an hour later than we were promised. I'm sure you see my problem." The knight replied.
The man snorted and hocked a black glob into the dirt.
"Look, I don't think you understand. We aren't some high and mighty force from Servi. Your guy, Odion or whatever, asked for the cheapest guys. And the thing is, the cheapest guys don't always play by the rules."
Leon noticed the men of the other man's patrol pulling out daggers, cheap lengths of trader iron, no doubt, but more than enough to pierce some unprotected ribs. He put his hand on the sword at his hip and prepared for a battle.
"So you either hand over the gold we were promised, or Darabont can be short an overconfident guard." The man said, spreading his arms in question.
"Guard?" Ichabod laughed, "bad choice there, insulting the guards. See, these guys around me are guards, yes, and they are quite fine folk. Intelligent, agreeable, and don't smell like a three week old carcass, which already puts them three steps ahead of you, good sir. But myself? I'm a knight. Quite a good one, really."
"Knight or not, I want my money. Hand it over or we'll take more than your gold."
Ichabod pulled off his greatcoat, stripping to a pair of loose black slacks and a tight black tank top which revealed the tone and bulk of his muscles. He was a small guy, but looked more muscular than most anyone Leon had ever seen. He tossed the coat from his hand and toward one of the guards Leon hadn't recognized and pointed at him.
"You, hold my coat. The rest of you, fight alongside me." He said with a fierce smile. "knock 'em around a bit, but don't go and kill any."
Leon pulled the sword from his hip and readied his stance, watching the men run toward the squad of guards. The head of their force pulled a knife from his sleeve and tried jabbing at Ichabod who simply twisted his sword and wrenched the knife from his hand. He then slapped the man with the flat end of the sword and kicked him down.
The rest of his group did not notice this and ran past them toward Leon, Carlyle, the other free guard, and the guard trying incredibly hard to keep Ichabod's coat safe.
"Going to cut you down, little oaf!" A bearded merchant with a few teeth missing cried as he swung down the short dagger in a shoddy atttack.
Leon raised his sword and caught the blade on his own. He twisted his body, sending the vendor's arm far to the right which made the man go off balance. Then he used his free hand and slammed his knuckles directly into the man's temple. He crumpled to the ground with his eyes still opened and Leon was assured by the sound of Ichabod's laugh.
Within a few minutes the troupe had been defeated and all either lay on the ground unconscious or was hastily scooping up their fallen allies and running away. A couple cut the ropes binding the momonsters and mounted them.
"Not bad!" Ichabod laughed. He seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits now. "I'm impressed with you all, especially you, Leon."
"The unnamed guard walked forward and handed Ichabod his coat.
"Oh! Yeah! And you!" Ichabod consoled as he inspected the jacket, "I mean, there isn't a speck of dirt on this thing! Good job!"
"Thank you sir." The guard said miserably, already fading into the background.
"Anyway, Leon, you did great." The knight said cheerily, "I could see you on my own squad. Squad of knights."
Leon felt himself salivate at the thought of fighting alongside Ichabod as a member of the knighthood. There was no higher honor than that of knighthood.
"I, I would love to!" Leon said.
"Now let's get these supplies back to Orion. I think I need to talk to him about the people he hires.
They returned to the castle with little trouble, and before long, Leon was on his way. By this point the day was nearly gone, as was Leon's energy. His headache, which had previously subsided, had drifted back into his mind and his only desire was to slink into the barracks and fall to sleep.
He was halfway there when the strength of his legs failed and he toppled to the ground like spilled water.
"Oh shit!" He cursed, trying to find the strength to stand. It was as if all the blood of his limbs had left him, for his entire body tingled with cold and weakness.
He opened his mouth to try scream for help, for anyone, but his voice was frail. A line of fiery hot beads broke out upon his brow and looked frantically up and down the corridor; no one. He managed to heave himself into a sitting position, his back against the wall and sat with his back against the cool gray stones for a moment with his eyes closed.
When he opened his eyes, seconds later, a figure wavered in front him, like air over hot flame. The spectre was cloaked in black cloak and cowl, with two pinpricks of amethyst just under the hood.
"W-what are you?" Leon asked the being.
A voice returned to him but it was broken and jarbled, as though he were underwater.
"What?" Leon questioned weakly, "I can't...understand..."
The broken voice spoke once more and then the figure was gone instantly and Leon was left staring at the suit of armor propped against the opposite wall. Strangely, he felt the strength slowly ebb back into him, as if the specter had been the cause of his weakness. He grabbed hold of the mortar indent between two bricks and pulled himself up, leaning heavily upon the wall.
"What's wrong with me?" He asked as he limped his way back to the barracks. "Nothing...must be a spring cold. No reason to be worried..."
He couldn't believe himself.