The Trinity of Heroes (I Will Protect You Book 1) (3 page)

Benni quickly cast away the intimidating thoughts and recovered his composure. He shook Bryce’s hand firmly and vigorously and bowed his head a little. “My name is Benni Wakewood, sire; it’s a great pleasure to finally meet you,” Benni said, summoning all the courage he could upon finally meeting one of his idols.

Bryce stared at him, squinting in interest at the eager young boy before him. Bryce shook his hand and finally gave a slight nod and smile to Benni. “Hello, Benni, welcome to the Knight Guard,” he said in a firm, deep voice.

It was the confirmation that Benni had only dreamed of. A surge of confidence flowed through him. He grinned from ear to ear. He bowed again and thanked the Captain, moving down the line to introduce himself to Mayor Flint.

Behind Benni, Lawrence clenched his fists, trying to calm his nerves. He had never been inside the castle’s gates before, and he didn’t want to do or say anything stupid. He walked cautiously toward the parchment, aware of every step he took.
Stand up straight, shoulders back, good poise.
These thoughts ran over and over in his mind. The few steps to the stone slab seemed to last forever. His hand shook a bit as he dabbed the quill. It seemed to pain him as he laboriously wrote each letter of his name. He breathed a deep sigh as he finished and replaced the quill.

He looked up toward the castle, taking in its majestic ambiance. He noticed a red haired girl staring out a high window, intently watching the proceedings. She looked away quickly as the two made eye contact for a split second.

He walked over toward Captain Bryce Maxwell. His blue eyes skirted about, never holding the Captain’s gaze. His hand trembled a bit as he held it out. “Hello, sire, my name is Lawrence Sanctus; it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Bryce shook Lawrence’s hand with a crushing grip. He stared at Lawrence for a few moments with intent, amber eyes. “You’re Jerreth’s boy, aren’t you?” he questioned gruffly.

Lawrence really hoped he wouldn’t be asked questions about his father. He looked away quickly, then back to Bryce’s steely stare. “Yes, sire, I am the son of Jerreth Sanctus,” he responded meekly.

“Jerreth was a great Knight, lad. It’s too bad he left…I hope you don’t follow in his footsteps,” Bryce added, taking a jab at Lawrence’s lineage.

Lawrence was in no position to defend himself or his father, for that matter. He bowed his head and thanked the Captain, happy that he had not made a complete mockery of himself. He walked over to meet Mayor Flint.

Razzius shuffled up to the quill and stared at it for a long moment. He knew what he was supposed to do. Razzius gazed at the parchment filled with names, then back at the ground. He heard the snickers from others behind him who sensed his incompetence. He felt ashamed, useless.

Bryce sensed that Razzius was struggling and strutted over toward the young boy. “A problem, lad?” Bryce asked.

“I can’t write, sire,” Razzius muttered, almost inaudibly. “I don’t know how to spell my name.” His face turned a dark crimson from embarrassment.

Bryce stooped down on one knee and placed his hand comfortingly on Razzius’ shoulder. Bryce had been in this same situation years ago, and never forgot how Sabre Grey, who was Knight Guard Captain at the time, had ensured that he be tutored.

“Tell me your name, lad, and I will write it for you,” Bryce said reassuringly as he looked into Razzius’ shadowy, gray eyes.

Razzius hesitated for a moment, trying to compose himself. Finally, he summoned the courage he needed. “My name is Razzius Grimm, sire. The last letter of my last name is written twice; I’ve seen my father write it that way.”

“Ah yes, Wurn’s boy, eh? I’ve seen the name in the ledgers. I tell you what,” Bryce scrawled Razzius’ name on the parchment, “I am going to request that you be squired to me, and I will train you not only to be a great Knight, but also how to read and write.”

Razzius’ face lit up at the news. It was the first time that he could remember that someone had offered to instruct him, and he wasn’t going to pass on the chance.

“Thank you, sire, I am forever in your debt,” Razzius said, completely humbling himself before Bryce’s kind gesture.

“I have no doubt you will make me proud, Razzius,” Bryce responded.

Razzius walked over toward Mayor Flint, a new bounce in his step. The Mayor was dressed in his best vest and leggings; he regarded any event to do with the Knight Guard and its continued legacy with the utmost importance. Flint Pyre had been a Knight and fought alongside Captain Sabre Grey. Sabre had been offered the position of Mayor, as Knight Guard Captain was traditionally a stepping stone to the mayorship. But Sabre had refused it, wanting instead to retire from active duty. It was Sabre who had nominated Flint to be Mayor of Haile. Flint was more than willing to oblige, happy to get out of combat duty and into a government role.

“Hello young man, thank you for signing up for the Knight Guard. What’s your name?” Flint asked. He shook Razzius’ calloused hand.

Razzius shook the mayor’s hand firmly, attempting to make sustained eye contact with the man. He struggled at first, but managed to compose himself. “My name is Razzius Grimm, sire,” he said, hints of confidence flowing into his statements. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to join the Knights and begin my training. Captain Maxwell has even expressed to me that he wants me to be his squire.” Razzius really wanted that last part to come to fruition.

“Did he now? Well we will discuss that amongst the two of us, and you will receive your summons soon, Razzius. Thank you again for your commitment to the Knight Guard.”

The two parted ways and Razzius rushed to rejoin his friends. He was the one who couldn’t control himself now. “Lawrence, Benni, guess what?! Captain Maxwell told me he wanted me to be his personal squire. Think of all the battle moves and defensive tactics I am going to learn from him. I really hope that the mayor agrees -”

“Razzius, slow down,” Benni cut in, waving his hand to draw the attention back to himself. “True, that would be a great honor, but it isn’t a guarantee until it is in writing. Plus, think of how hard it will be to impress Bryce Maxwell. He is the Captain, after all.”

“I know, but I am joining the Knight Guard for the fame and fortune and adventure. I want to see the world, save the world. Who better to learn from?” Razzius asked rhetorically.

“Do you really think most of these Knights even want squires that they have to teach and tutor?” Lawrence lamented. “I mean what if I, or any of us, get stuck with someone who just doesn’t care about our growth, who never fills out our training log? We’re doomed! Even if we train as hard as we can, we’ll never be sworn in as Knights!”

Lawrence had made a valid point, and the three recruits walked back to their homes in silence as those words hung over them in the air like a dark cloud. This thought haunted each of them as they waited for days for word of whom they would be squired to. The anticipation of learning who their dreams hinged on was the only thought on their minds.

I watched the first batch of recruits make the rounds today. I saw their eyes glisten with hope and eagerness. I could see a sparkle of innocence still present, but for how long I have to wonder. It seems like it was only yesterday that I meself made those rounds, and had that sparkle in me eye. Those days are long gone now.

- Journal of Sabre Grey, March 21
st
, 20 P.W.

In his dreams Lawrence trained vigorously with his father, working toward his ultimate goal of becoming a Hailian Knight. The morning dawn broke him of those delusions, however, as he was with his sickly mother in their desolate, dilapidated house.

A loud knock came at the door and Lawrence immediately rushed to answer it, so as not to allow his mother to be awakened. He cracked the door open allowing as little light to flood the room as possible.

“Lawrence Sanctus?” a man questioned, his gruff voice shattering the morning tranquility. His face was barely visible through the crack in the doorway.

Lawrence gave a half nod through the door, not sure as to the man’s purpose.

“Here are your papers, son, the man you seek is Sabre Grey. He lives in Alacrecia, not far from here. He will be your master and your trainer. Good luck to you.” The man passed a small fold of parchment through the crack in the door.

Lawrence’s heart beat with excitement. He snatched the parchment and immediately lit a candle in order to examine its contents. The light danced atop the wick and Lawrence began to read the note that had been given to him. Affixed to the top of the parchment was the official crest of the Knights of Haile: A circular design of two longswords crossed over each other just above a shadow dragon which wove its way from bottom to top through a semi-circular pattern of words: Honor, Courage, Loyalty. Lawrence had seen the crest adorned on many of the higher ranking Knights, often fastening their capes to their right shoulder. Lawrence could feel his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes scanned the parchment.

By the highest decree of his majesty Mayor Flint Pyre of the city of Haile, Lawrence Sanctus is to be squired for training unto Knight Guard Master Sabre Grey. Beginning this day of reception until two years from today, Lawrence will practice and train under his master. At The Advent of Knighthood, the manifest and proof of training must be provided to show Lawrence’s completion of his Knight Guard training.

There was a large red seal with the capital letter “H” in the center and below it sat the mayor’s notation:

Flint　R　Pyre

Lawrence could feel his heart beating vigorously now as he read further down the page:

Furthermore, the address of Sabre Grey is the last house on the right in the village of Alacrecia as it is entered from the side nearest Haile. The trainee must seek his master out within one week of receiving this announcement.

Lawrence looked at his mother who rested peacefully. Lawrence was ready to take on his biggest challenge to date; he was going to begin training to be a Knight. With extra care not to disturb his mother, Lawrence threw on his tattered vest and his cleanest pants and dashed out the door. He had never been so excited in his entire life. Today he was officially a squire. He couldn’t wait to introduce himself to Sabre Grey.

Lawrence raced around a bend, past the old shops of Haile, and eventually came upon the exit of the city. He knew that Alacrecia was close, but he had never been there before. He left out the East gate and headed down a winding dirt road toward his destination. Lawrence was filled with so many different emotions he didn’t know which ones to respond to. He ran briskly as the early morning sun glinted over the horizon. He could feel beads of sweat form on his forehead, but wasn’t sure if he was nervous or terribly out of shape. As Lawrence continued walking he passed a covered wagon led by a horse and rider. He could hear the creaky wagon wheel call out to him as the contraption rolled on by. Lawrence was excited at the thoughts of the many things he would get to do and see as a squire, and eventually as a Hailian Knight. He had heard stories of heroic Knights that had saved the princess and battled ferocious dragons, and now he was about to begin his own path to knighthood.

Finally, Lawrence stopped for a moment and looked up at a wooden sign that read in large archaic lettering,
Alacrecia
. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Lawrence continued onward into the village looking for his destination.

He searched for a long while as he read what was scrawled on the manuscript:
The last house on the right.

His pace quickened as he passed many houses with plentiful gardens and rustic décor. Soon Lawrence came upon a two-story log house larger than all the others and noticed a swaying wooden sign fastened loosely to a nearby fence. It only said one word, but this one word was enough to make Lawrence’s heart stutter for a moment.

Grey.

Smoke still lingered from a nearby firepit, denoting a freshly cooked meal.
At least someone is home,
Lawrence thought. A stone chimney adorned the beautiful dwelling, and Lawrence assumed that whoever lived there was affluent. Lawrence approached a large oak door and began to knock, excited to begin his training as soon as possible.

No answer.

Knock! Knock! Knock!
Lawrence tried again.

Lawrence stood alone at the towering door waiting for an answer; it was so quiet today he could hear bugs flying around him. As Lawrence reached up to brush one away, someone opened the door. In front of Lawrence stood a well-built, tall man with broad shoulders and a very proud jaw. His shaggy gray hair went past his ears; it was flowing, long, and soft. Sideburns crawled down his cheekbones, finding their way along the edges of his face. His hands showed signs of age and scarring. They were cut, calloused, and coarse. He wore expensive blue and purple robes lined with silver and gold trim and held a half empty bottle of Veronicia XXIV, one of the land’s finest spirits. His piercing green eyes scanned Lawrence closely.

“What da ye want?” The man’s sharp, crackling voice broke the silence that hung in the air.

“Braaaaap!” His loud belch echoed throughout the streets as a grumpy look crossed his face.

Lawrence tried but couldn’t utter a reply.

“Well boy, speak up!” the man demanded.

Lawrence was petrified. He didn’t know what to say. The man stood over him like a lumbering giant. “M-m-my name is L-L-L-Lawrence Sanctus, sire, I am your squire.” Lawrence barely stuttered out the words before the man’s grumpy look turned to a scowl.

“So, they sent another one, did they?” His scowl turned more serious. “I told them I didn’t want any more squires. I told them that I didn’t want to do this anymore. Do ye have any idea how long I have been a Knight? Can ye possibly comprehend how many lives I have taken? Son, last year at the Advent of Knighthood I told Flint Pyre that I didn’t want to take on a new squire this year. I’m not interested.” He began to close the door.

As the door closed, Lawrence could feel any chance he had of becoming a Knight, and providing for his mother, slipping away. He grabbed the door and shouted, “Wait sire, please!”

The man stopped closing the door and reopened it. “All ye squires are the same, all so eager to join the Knight Guard. Tell me, Lawrence, have ye ever looked into the eyes of a dying man before? Have ye ever held a friend close while he bled to death, watching as his very soul slipped through yer hands? Can ye possibly understand the true sacrifices of being a Knight?”

“No, sire,” Lawrence responded quietly.

“Sabre, come back to bed,” a young woman’s lusty voice echoed from inside the home.

“Hold on, love, ol’ Sabre’s comin’ back to the sack!” Sabre shouted, turning his head to acknowledge the request. He turned back to Lawrence and said irritably, “And just what do ye think makes ye worthy to be a squire under one of the greatest Knights in all of Haile?”

Lawrence could feel himself get choked up. “I don’t know, sire,” he said softly.

“What did ye say?”

“I said I don’t know, sire. I don’t know what makes me worthy of your tutelage.”

Sabre Grey stood there for a moment looking Lawrence over. “I will not train ye boy. Ye must go and make it for yerself, just as I did. There was no one there to hold me hand and I still managed alright. Granted, me father before me was a great Knight and very accomplished, but he never made me training easy. I pushed meself every day to become as strong as I possibly could and when I looked to him for acknowledgement…” He paused for a moment and then roared, “I got none!”

His words lingered in the air like a cloud of smoke as neither of them said anything for a moment. Lawrence knew that this man was the only way he could ever become a Knight, and at the very least he knew he had to try to appeal to Sabre’s sense of hard work and justice. Lawrence dropped down to one knee and said, “Sire, I am not worthy of your training! While I know not how I will accomplish my task, I will complete my training with or without your help! I will become strong, strong enough to protect this city and its people. Someday, Haile will remember my name, just as they do yours!”

Sabre looked at Lawrence and finally asked, “Did ye say yer name was Sanctus?”

A burst of emotion overtook Lawrence as thoughts of his deserted father rushed into his mind. “Yes, sire,” Lawrence admitted reluctantly, his expression souring.

“Hmmm…” Sabre unplugged the bottle he was holding and took a swig. He swished the liquor around in his mouth and gulped it down. He sighed. “Train hard, Lawrence Sanctus. Train harder than anyone else, become stronger than even meself, and when it comes time, good things will come yer way.”

Sabre stepped back inside the house and closed the door.

Lawrence stood there in disbelief. He didn’t know if he should knock on the door again or just go home. After several long moments, Lawrence dropped his head and started back toward Haile, no closer to becoming a Knight than when he left. His mentor wasn’t going to help him. There would be no one there to hold
his
hand either.