Ch. 04: Fulfilling a Prophecy

This is a rewrite of a previously published work. There is new content within, but most of the story beats are fundamentally the same, though some of the characterization and scenes have been changed in what I consider to be important ways.

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We trained every night for most of a month.

After the first few days, I tried to refuse. I didn't want to fight and I figured she couldn't do anything to actually hurt me. Bruises and a cut here or there, sure, but I'd live through that. And I'd get a chance to return to Sofen. To my home. And at first she tried to goad me into defending myself. She would draw her sword and slash at me and I'd jump out of the way, but I refused to draw my sword. On the third day, she just screamed in frustration at me, "Blacksmith! Why won't you defend yourself?"

"A friend of mine..." I cut off, breathing heavily. She had attacked me again. Slow enough for me to dodge, but my heart was pounding hard in my chest. I could barely hear her words over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, even with her shouting. After a breath or two, or ten, I continued, "A friend of mine once said that 'Violence is a curse'. I'd prefer to avoid any curses."

The knight stared at me for a few moments, as if I'd just spoken nonsense, then shook her head. "So you'd rather die, blacksmith?"

"No, I'd just prefer not to fight," I responded simply, shrugging. My hands were still shaking, but I was starting to calm down.

"Not fighting isn't an option," she stated as though it was an immutable fact of the universe.

"I've never had to fight before," I shot back, bitterness building in my tone. "Before you, before that weird noblewoman, I'd never even touched a sword, much less swung one."

"Everyone should be able to defend themselves and those they care about," the First Knight responded in the exact same tone. I frowned, my mind drifting back to the scene of the man I'd seen gutted almost two decades past. Even as my stomach churned, I had to concede the point. The world is dangerous and I don't want to be like that guy. Lady Carmella spoke again, bringing me back to the present. "You need to learn this. It's for your own good."

That shifted something inside of me. A kernel of annoyance that I'd been trying to push down. "Why?" I demanded in a soft whisper.

"Why what?" The First Knight asked. Insofar as she asked anything. Her questions always came off more as demands more than anything. I think she was used to people just listening to her. Which also reminds me of that damned noblewoman.

"Why do I need to know this!?" I demanded, throwing up my hands. "You drag me from my home! You don't tell me a damned thing about why. I can only assume it's to do with that pain in the ass noblewoman!" Carmella actually broke out into a grin at this characterization, all but confirming my statement. "If this is about the sword, take it. I don't want it! Find her and give it to her. Sell it! I don't care."

"It's not about the sword," she stated simply, her face having defaulted back to its natural, stony expression. "It is about you."

"Why!?" I shouted. She didn't react. I deflated somewhat. "I'm just a blacksmith from some tiny village. There must be thousands of people just like me. Go find one of them."

"Nah," she responded with a shrug. It was the least formal I think I'd ever seen her. Which threw me off.

"Will you at least tell me why?" I asked, exasperation overtaking me.

"How badly do you want to know?" She asked, as she walked towards and then past me.

"I'd... give anything," I muttered defeated. She picked up the blade set and pushed it, sheathed, into my chest.

"Then, blacksmith, here's my offer." She lingered for a moment or two after I'd taken the weapons in my arms, her gauntleted fist surprisingly gentle. "Defeat me and I'll tell you anything and everything you want to know."

"We both know I can't beat you," I replied, staring up into her eyes. Her brilliant green eyes. I swallowed.

"Then I guess you don't actually want to know that badly, now do you?" She replied with a smirk spreading across her face, before walking past me. I stood there for a moment longer chewing on everything.

"I-it's just self-defense, right?" I asked, staring down at the blades in my hands.

"It is however you choose to use it," the woman responded, the somber formalness having overtaken her tone again.

Forty five days of travel and training. I had not realized the castle was so far away. A part of it was that we would end early every day to make sure there was time to train. Weather was no concern for the First Knight. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, she would have me take out the sword and dagger and flail against her. And that's most of what was happening.

There were a handful of times where I'd land a lucky blow and every time I did, she'd give a brief smile and then proceed to reaffirm that it was just that. Luck. Every improvement that I made was dwarfed by her skill. There was nothing I could do to stop her.

One night, nearing the end of our trip, I almost had her once when I threw the dagger and came up behind it with a slash. I actually hit her with the second attack. She crumpled, just for a moment and I went in for another attack. She recovered and sped up her counter attacks, coming at me from every angle. I fended off some of them, but there were many that I couldn't. With my counterattacks, I would occasionally land a glancing blow. And every time I did, she'd give a nod. And every nod, every acknowledgement gave me the strength to continue.

It wasn't until I pushed her back and we stared each other down for a moment, both catching our breath, that I realized I was having fun. And so was she. The familiar ring of metal on metal. Finding a rhythm. It felt good to use my hands to do something. Anything. I missed my forge. But I was never bored out here.

She came at me again and I was already exhausted. I deflected one blow and she followed it up and struck me in the chest with the flat of her blade. I went flying and landed hard on my back. I tried to get up, but my arms and legs felt boneless. I heard her stomp over to me. The knight considered me on the ground, the moon high over her head, leaving her face enshadowed. I thought I could see another one of her rare smiles. She took off her gauntlet and offered me a hand. I took it and she pulled me up easily. Neither of us let go for a long moment. She whispered, "You've gotten a lot better, blacksmith."

"Not good enough to win," I remarked. She squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"Maybe not," she replied, eyes on mine. Her hand was warm. Pleasant. My heart was beating fast and I don't think it had much to do with the exercise. "But there's hope for you." Those words seemed to carry a weight I didn't understand. We lingered like that for a moment or two longer before she let go of my hand.

It wasn't all combat training, though. After a few nights, she taught me how to take care of the horses. She got out her brush and showed me the proper technique. "You have to brush out their fur and mane. Make sure it doesn't get tangled." She was pretty gentle with the animals as she did so. She had me take over as she petted the beast's nose. I watched her and she gave me one of her rare smiles. Maybe it was for the horse. Most nights, she'd take care of them alone and I'd prepare dinner. Which I got better at as we traveled. I wasn't used to cooking without a stove. She didn't cook at all. But she also never complained when I burnt something or when the porridge was too watery.

The other thing she taught me was how to take watch. "With just the two of us, it's a little more difficult. You can't fall asleep, blacksmith."

"What happens if I fall asleep?" I asked, forcing my voice to be steady. She was always serious, but she sounds downright grave.

"Bandits, beasts, hells, even dragons could sneak up on us." There wasn't fear or emotion in her voice. She said it as though it were simple fact. The same way she'd tell me she has green eyes. I shivered. "We'd be dead. And I don't plan on dying out here. I'll take first watch. You'll take second. If anything happens, wake me up and we'll deal with it."

I couldn't sleep the first few nights. But eventually, exhaustion took over and I practically collapsed on the third night, after combat training. It felt like as soon as I closed my eyes, I was sluggishly opening them, awake again. But I felt better. I looked around. The First Knight was sitting next to me. She looked as exhausted as I felt. I glanced up at the moon and it was in the wrong place. I frowned. "You didn't wake me for my watch."

"You needed the rest," she stated without heat.

"You do, too." I reached out and gripped her shoulder. She glanced over at me, her hair in a slight disarray. She considered me for a moment, before nodding. Guilt spread through my stomach. I helped her doff her armor and she curled up under her winter blanket near the fire, almost immediately snoring. I smiled down at her and sat next to her. I'll never miss another watch, I promised myself. I may hate this situation but that doesn't mean I can shirk my duties. She needs me. And that felt nice. It's what kept me going for a while.

Every night after, I'd watch over her, sitting close enough to reach out at any point. Occasionally, on especially cold nights, she'd press into my thigh. She's cute like this. Not just beautiful. But cute. I knew that I sometimes did the same, because, more than once, I woke up nuzzling her thigh during her watch. She would use part of her watch to clean her armor. I'm not sure if she approves, exactly. But she certainly hasn't disabused me of it yet, I thought.

Part of me wanted to test how far she'd let me go, if I could hug her, cuddle her. Kiss her. The desire was there. But so was the fear that if I tried, she would levy her blade at me for real. I tried to quash the fantasies, but just as with Morgana, I just wasn't strong enough to. How can I resist two beautiful women? A reasonable-sounding voice asked.

About five weeks into our journey, we had been ambushed by bandits in the woods. Eight men surrounded us and demanded that we get off our horses and hand over all of our money. That was when I saw the clearest cut difference in our skill levels. She took on six of them, flowing from stance to stance and felling each man with ease.

But I didn't really have the time to gawk at her. Two of them had split off and were attacking me. One sword came down at me and I batted it away with my own. Another angled towards my ribs and I caught it with my dagger and I leaned in slightly, pushing my weight against the bandit's own strength, only to lessen it immediately after. He wasn't prepared for that and stumbled forward and more out of muscle memory than any conscious thought, I spun and thrust my dagger into his back, just as I had a thousand times in practice. But this bandit wasn't wearing plate mail. The leather didn't resist all that much against the blade. I dropped the dagger, feeling bile build up in my throat.

But I didn't have time to dwell on what I'd just done. The other swung his own two blades at me in quick succession and I managed to bring up my sword to defend against two of them. I didn't expect the last attack and it caught me across the arm. I didn't even notice it at the time. My head was pounding in time with my heart and my vision was narrowed. My breathing was ragged. And with a sweep of my arm, my sword caught this man in the throat.

I watched the blade sever the muscles in his neck. Blood sprayed out over the ground. Not ridiculously. There was somehow more and less blood than I thought there would be. From both of them. The sword dropped from my hands and I stood there and watched them die and for a while longer after. Violence is a curse of its own. I had killed a man. Two men. I didn't mean to. I did not want to hurt them. It was never something that I wanted.

Some time later, it could have been minutes or hours or even days for all I was paying attention, Lady Carmella put her hand on my shoulder and I jumped and tried to run. Her gauntleted hand gripped my shoulder tighter and kept me in place. It was only then that I realized she was speaking. "You did well. It's a good thing you took on both of these fools. I don't think I could've taken all of them myself, Johann."

I blinked. It took me a few moments to process what she said. "Y-you called me Johann."

"You're not just a blacksmith anymore." She said simply. As though that explained anything at all. She set towards retrieving the horses and cooing at them. She got up in the saddle of her horse and started off slowly. "Don't forget your weapons."

I looked around. My dagger was still in the back of the first bandit I had taken down. I swallowed and closed my eyes as my hands closed around the hilt. With a tug that required more force than I would have thought, I pulled it out. I picked up my sword and looked at it. The intricate designs I'd etched into them had caught the blood and gave it a grisly path to travel. My throat was dry and my hands were shaking. I wiped it down on the clothes of one of my fallen foes and gagged. It took all of my will to not vomit. I got on the horse and urged it to catch up. To leave them behind.

She made dinner that night and watched me with those sharp green eyes. We did not talk a lot. We never did. She watched me over her bowl of stew, though. She sat her bowl down and said, "You didn't do anything wrong,"

"What? I know that. I-" My voice caught in the sentence. I couldn't quite meet her eye. "I-I was ju-st defending myself."

"Exactly, Johann," she used my name again. Almost familiarly. "You did what you must."

"Violence is a curse of its own," I muttered almost inaudibly to myself.

"It can be," she said almost as softly, taking a step closer. She had taken off her gauntlets to make dinner. "But this curse lets you live another day sometimes. This curse you took on today let me live. Let both of us live." Her eyes fell on the bloody arm of my tunic. "Unless you let yourself die of an infection."

"You could have taken them all." I muttered bitterly to her back as she dug something out of her pack. When she returned, she was holding a bottle of brandy.

"Maybe. Or maybe those two would have found an opening created by the others, overwhelmed me, and I would have died. We don't know." She pushed my tunic sleeve out of the way and poured some of the liquor over it. I winced a little as the alcohol burned through the wound. She held me still and started cleaning out of the wound far more gently than I thought possible. From her at least. "What I do know is that you prevented that by taking them on yourself." She examined the wound more closely. "This is going to need stitches." She wandered back to her first aid kit and started digging through it. "Tomorrow we will arrive at the castle. Focus on that."

"How are you related to Morgana?" I asked, trying to concentrate on anything else.

"Who?" The knight responded absently, as she dipped a needle in a little brandy.

"Morgana? The woman that commissioned these weapons." I clarified, staring into the fire. "You have the same eyes. Kind of. They're the same color. They're intense. You're both intense. But in different ways. Hers are predatory, like a cat chasing a mouse. Yours are... I don't know. Determined. Wary."

"Morgana..." The knight snorted. "Of course she would choose that name."

"What?" My brows crawled up my forehead, only to slam back down as I gritted through the pain of her pushing the needle through the small cut.

"Morgana is a character from a story," she explained as she deftly stitched the wound closed. "A powerful witch who falls in love and dooms her kingdom. She always liked that story. The fool."

"Uh..." My mind flashed back to our conversation about books. I had read this book once or twice in the past. Morgana, the character, was a smart, capable girl. She had the power to win a war. But she fell in love with a general of the opposing force and couldn't bring herself to kill him. They won the war and she was executed. My mouth twisted. Most people thought it was a sad story. But I saw it as necessary. She couldn't kill him. Not without abandoning everything she wanted. She was a tragic hero. I found myself smiling softly at that. Bittersweet, but still sweet enough.

"You'll see her tomorrow." Carmella remarked. She'd finished the stitches, and her hand lingered on my elbow. I watched her. She looked like she wanted to say more. Ultimately, she only said, "Ask her, then. You're first watch tonight. Don't let us get killed."

She doffed her armor, laid down, and started snoring softly almost immediately. I found myself smiling at her. Despite everything, I'd found myself comfortable around her. It'd be weird to go back to Sofen now. I shook my head. I have to. That's where I belong. In James' forge. I sat next to her, took out my sword and cleaned it again. I had watched the First Knight clean hers, and recreated the motions.

When my shift was over and I woke her up, I ended up staring at the stars for a long time, thinking about Morgana, the story she'd stolen the name from, and Carmella. I tried to stay grounded about what I expected to happen. Not get wrapped up in romantic ideas. But I really have no idea what to expect. I don't understand any of this.

Eventually, my eyes got so heavy that I couldn't help but try to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw those men; their blood; their bodies. Then I saw the man I had watched die all those years ago. I shot up, feeling tears leaking from my eyes. I glanced around, scrubbing my face. Lady Carmella was sitting next to me. She'd taken off her gauntlet to stroke my hair. She actually cooed at me too. "It's okay. Get some rest. It'll be okay."

This was comforting. Until I remembered that this is exactly what she said when she was wrangling the horses back after the bandits had scared them off. Well, she's trying her best.

We still had most of a day's ride before we got to the city proper, but I spotted the walls from more than an hour's ride out from camp. Bayfield, I thought. It's huge. There were farms around it and just like back in my village, people watched the passersby with idle curiosity. I nodded at them and they nodded back, but their eyes always seemed to drift back to the First Knight.

The roads were paved with cobblestone this close to the city and the horses' footfalls were loud, announcing our presence. But no one paid us all that much mind. I imagine back in Sofen, they're still talking about some knight kidnapping me. My stomach crawled at a new thought. I can't even begin to imagine the rumors surrounding me now. I'd argued against the rumors of my tryst with the pretty dark-haired lady for months, unable to quell them. Guess they had some more truth to them than I'd considered.... Or let myself consider.

The First Knight stopped us just before we got into the line to enter the city and had dressed me in the nicest clothes that she had packed for me. Which were just my festival clothes. Finely dyed cotton, comfortable breeches. She insisted that I wear the sword and dagger on my hip as well. She'd also pushed a stone in my hand the size of a bar of soap. I'd held it aloft, confused and she pushed it into my chest and a weird sensation of wind swept over my body, through my clothes and suddenly I smelled of fresh cinnamon and bergamot. Two scents I'd always wanted, but couldn't afford whenever Ahmed brought in colognes. I frowned, considering the stone. My musings were cut short, as the First Knight got back on her horse and guided us to the city.

The city walls were huge, imposing things. They stretched up at least three stories. And astoundingly, there were buildings that towered over these huge walls. Behind them, there were so many people milling about. Everywhere. The streets were filled. And paved. Everything was stone as far as the eye could see. White cobblestone lined the streets. Buildings were made of carved bricks and decorative glass. Many of the buildings had several stories. The only building like that in the village was the inn. Here in Bayfield, everything was bigger than the inn.