To Be a Knight

The sun was high in the sky while the town’s guards were training at the barracks’ grounds. They each had their own tempo while practicing footwork, slashes, and thrusts at the pells. Captain Rhys inspected the training with both of his arms behind his back before one younger guard approached him.

“Sir, a man came to the barracks looking for you.”

“A man?”

“He claims to be Yuriel of Astera.”

“I see.” He nodded shortly before turning to the guards that were training. “Break time! Rest up before I come back.”

They responded in unison.

“Aye, Sir!”

The captain calmly made his way to the barracks’ entrance, where a towering gray haired man was being blocked by four guards armed with halberds. Not only was the man in front of them massive, but his two hand-axes on each side of his hip made a clear sign that he wasn’t just all muscle.

“Yuriel.” Rhys raised his voice with a faint smile on his face. “What do I owe the visit?”

“I came here to talk to you.”

“I see.” He approached the gate but none of the guards dared to let go of their stance before Rhys grabbed their shoulders one by one. “Calm down, he’s a friend of mine. Go back to your posts, I’ll take it from here.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

After they all left, both the captain and the towering man looked at each other with a serious air between them. The tension was palpable as Rhys started to rub his right index finger and thumb together before speaking up.

“Are you here because of Cecile?” Yuriel nodded. “How much?”

“Five gold.”

The captain ran his tongue over his teeth before taking a step to the side.

“Let’s go to my office, we’ll talk there.”

“Aye.”

The guards stationed around the barracks’ building looked nervously as their captain led a mountain of a man behind him towards the doorway. One of the older guards was preparing to step in front of him, likely to demand to disarm, but Rhys simply raised his hand and shook it slightly, prompting the man to simply step back and watch as both of them entered the building.

Inside his office, Rhys took the seat behind his desk while Yuriel settled the wooden chair aside and sat on the floor—even then his upper body was still slightly taller than the wooden desk’s surface.

“So.” The captain grabbed a small pouch of coins and settled it on the table before pulling out exactly five gold coins from inside. “How has she been?”

“Alive.” Yuriel spoke with a bit of sorrow in his voice. “But not well. Those mages really did a number on her.”

“I… see…” He started to once again rub his fingers against each other as he continued on. “What about that healer? Did he leave?”

“He left a few weeks ago. He said there was someone that could help her in Arcadia, but I don’t think she’ll last that long.”

Rhys nodded slowly. It was a bitter pill to swallow as he pulled another pouch from beneath his desk. It was a smaller, leather woven, reinforced bag the size of his palm.

“Here. I want you to bring this to her.”

He carefully put the bag on the desk and gently pushed it towards Yuriel—who upon seeing how carefully he treated it, picked it up with surprising care.

“What is this?”

“A potion.”

“A potion? You know those are-”

“That is the real thing.”

That made Yuriel raise an eyebrow before opening the pouch. The glass vial inside not only had runic spells engraved at the bottom of the glass, but the liquid inside was a vivid blood red. There was even a faint glow to the liquid as if it was alive.

Yuriel carefully placed the potion back into the bag and locked eyes with Rhys before beginning to ask.

“How did you…?”

“Don’t.” He let out a quiet sigh of defeat. “Just make sure that it gets to Cecile.”

“...I will.” The towering man grabbed the coins off the table and pocketed it before standing up. “I’ll make sure she comes to visit you when she recovers.”

“Hah, no need. If you don’t come back in a week that’s all I’ll need to know.”

He nodded quietly in response before leaving the office. Rhys remained on his chair before his shoulders eventually gave in and his head hung low.

‘Forgive me, Priscilla.’

Outside, Yuriel made his way out of the barracks’ grounds and into the streets. His pockets were heavy, not because of volume, but the sheer weight of the responsibility within them.

The towering man easily overshadowed many of the citizens walking around in search of a bargain and more often than not, heads would turn his way in both awe and slight fear.

‘Just a bit more…’

He thought for himself as his footsteps were carrying him to the main gate to the east. The sooner he left the city, the sooner he could get that potion to the person who needed it the most.

“Oof!”

Yuriel felt someone collide against his leg and as he looked down, he noticed a young woman with jet black hair on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

He knelt and noticed she was carrying a sheathed longsword by hand. Considering her clothes, she was probably a lowly squire, but that thought soon disappeared when he noticed her pointy ears poking out on each side of her hair. She looked up and forced a smile.

“Ah, sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Yuriel offered his hand and the young woman hesitantly accepted the help. Her gentle eyes and reserved demeanor reminded him of Cecile. He found himself instinctively asking.

“Are you heading somewhere?”

“Huh? No, not really.”

“Do you… want to talk?”

At that point she stopped and looked him directly in the eyes. There was a brief sense of recognition as she lowered her head again and uttered.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

He couldn’t help but smile faintly before turning around.

“Think nothing of it. A mere chat is no trouble.”

She looked up at him once more then slowly lowered her gaze before nodding twice.

The central square was bustling with people as usual. The towering man and timid high elf shared a stone bench in a secluded corner, far from the dizzying flow of pedestrians.

“What burdens you, young lady?” Yuriel gently asked. “You’ve lived too little to be wearing such a weary look on your face.”

“I… failed someone I look up to.” Her hand tightened around the scabbard, making her knuckles slowly turn white. “I’ve said things… that I can’t take back.”

“You really seem to like this person.” Despite his size, his tone was gentler than most people Rionara had ever met. “Have you considered talking to them about it?”

She slowly shook her head before answering.

“I couldn’t. She… she wanted to be alone for a while.”

“I see. Just listening to the way you talk about her, I can feel she is someone precious to you.” He moved his massive hands on top of his thighs and leaned forward a bit. “Does this person care about you as much as you do for her?”

“For sure!” She spoke louder which caught some glances from nearby pedestrians, but that attention faded away as she shrunk her shoulders again once she noticed how high her voice was. “I mean… she’s the reason why I have this.”

She raised the weathered longsword and both of their eyes were on the worn scabbard.

“A sword? Are you training to become a knight?”

The word ‘knight’ made Rionara’s chest tighten.

‘What good is a knight that can’t even protect those who they love?’

“No… I’m no knight.” She lowered her head, eventually her sword—then her voice as she uttered quietly. “I’m… a nobody.”

“It would be arrogant of me to tell you that I understand your feelings, but… I have also failed someone I looked up to.”

Those words made Rionara slowly turn her gaze up to him. A mountain of a man like himself, failed? That seemed incomprehensible.

“You sir, have you also failed someone?”

He slowly nodded with bitter regret.

“I was a soldier from a city far from here. The woman I looked up to was a fellow colleague of mine.” He looked down to his open right palm before clenching it tightly—Rionara could almost hear his muscles throb from the force. “Despite me boldly claiming that I’d protect her like a knight, she was wounded badly and sentenced to spend the rest of her days on a bed.” He then slowly opened his hand—his palm had small patterns of red amidst the white skin where his fingers buried themselves into. “My strength was worthless—yet, that failure served as a bitter lesson for my future footsteps.”

He glanced at her and his expression softened as he continued.

“I think you, too, are capable of growing beyond failure—young lady. Seeing the mistake is the first step and I’m certain the person you hold dear in your heart will also understand you if you speak frankly with her.”

Rionara’s chest felt just a little bit lighter as she heard those words. Of course, it wasn’t enough to make her feel better, but that invisible burden weighing her down just became a bit more manageable.

Her otherwise distraught expression slowly gave place to a bittersweet smile that she held while nodding.

“Thank you. Sir.”

“Yuriel is fine, young lady.” He smiled quietly. “Speaking of which, what is your name?”

“Ah, I’m Rionara.” She bowed her head. “Thank you for spending your time with me. I’m… I’m feeling better after hearing your story.”

“It’s alright, Rionara.” He stood up—his frame cast a shadow over her. “We all need some semblance of peace in our lives. Even if it comes from a stranger.”

He began walking away while waving briefly at her, which she responded by waving back.

‘Somehow… something felt familiar about him…’

She thought while standing up herself. The moment she did so, she felt a presence beside her and as she turned around—Tomoe was standing there glaring at her.

Her deep purple eyes could almost pierce a hole through her as the oni was looking for any semblance of guilt in Rionara’s features. Though the high elf didn’t have anything to hide—merely being stared at by someone that would allegedly kill for a potion, made her feel threatened.

“Miss Jeanne.” Tomoe spoke while her eyes were tracking Yuriel in the distance. “Who was that man you were talking with just now?”

“Ah, I…”

He’s just a stranger. Was what Rionara wanted to say, but words didn’t come out. No matter how much she forced herself to speak, her thoughts couldn’t go past her vocal cords as she just stood there trying to convey what she just experienced.

Tomoe started to furrow her brows as she was about to grab Rionara by her hand, but suddenly another tanned arm grabbed the Oni’s first.

Both Rionara and Tomoe looked at whoever held her and it turned out to be Geralt.

“Oi. Ye scaring her, Lass.”

He had his forging hammer in hand, which made Tomoe hesitate for a bit. The assistant looked around her as more and more people stopped to see what was happening.

After letting out a tired sigh, Tomoe pulled her arm back and walked past them—towards the eastern gate. Rionara was trembling in her boots as she tried to shake off the fear she just experienced.

‘Why…? Why am I shaking…? I have done nothing wrong and yet…’

Her eyes focused on the handle of her longsword—the metallic blade was clattering something fierce against its sheath.

“Lass, are ye okay?”

Geralt held her shoulders as he looked in her eyes. Fear was clear in her irises that it made the blacksmith feel angry.

“That damn demi-human.” He shook his head before patting her back and leading her to his store. “Come on.”

The two of them exited the central square with eyes being constantly drawn to them. Either by the fact Geralt helped an outsider or the fact that Rionara had her facial features out for the world to see.

Either way, once inside the shop, the blacksmith brought out a wooden stool for her to sit on while he arranged his newly forged goods on the racks.

“Lass, what did ye get yeself into back there? Never once ‘ave I seen a Lass like yeself shake like a green stick.”

“I… I don’t know what overcame me.” Rionara managed to speak, albeit while holding herself in her arms. “I just… froze.”

“Were ye wrong?”

“N-no, I wasn’t… I didn’t do anything for her to look at me like that.”

“Then, ye ‘ave nothin’ to fear.” He placed a pole-mace on the mounted rack and smiled at it as if it was his prized creation. “If ye done nothin’ wrong then ye don’t ‘ave to think too hard ‘bout it, don’tcha think so?”

“W-well… I suppose so.”

The doorbell rang as it opened slightly. Both the high elf and blacksmith looked at the doorway and saw a familiar yet unusual sight.

“Good afternoon, Geralt.” Reinhardt entered the establishment with Elaine in tow. He wore a simple raw cotton shirt, hemp trousers and worn leather boots. “I need you to repair some of my…” His words soon trailed off as his eyes met Rionara’s, who was sitting just a few meters in front of the counter. “Rio? What are you doing here?”

“Ah…”