CHAPTER SIX
WILLIAM
The afternoon sun hung high above the courtyard when I took my post at the main gate. The stone beneath my boots was warm, and the air carried the scent of the stables and the faint salt of the western wind.
A line of merchants waited to enter, their carts filled with grain and cloth. A few guards stood along the wall, their spears glinting in the light. I kept my eyes on the road ahead, watching for movement beyond the fields.
Footsteps approached behind me. I turned and saw the captain striding toward the gate, his armor catching the sun.
“Sir William,” he said, stopping beside me. “Where is the other guard?”
I frowned. “What other guard?”
He sighed, rubbing his temple. “There was supposed to be another man stationed here with you. Seems he’s decided to be anywhere but where he belongs.” He paused, then shook his head. “You know what, forget it.”
He looked out toward the road, his expression unreadable. “You did well this morning. The king was pleased. But being knighted is only the beginning. The real work starts now.”
I nodded. “What will my duties be?”
“For now, standard rotations. Guard shifts at the gates and along the walls. Tomorrow, I’ll have you report to the western post for inspection. After that, you’ll ride with another to the northern farms. There have been reports of unrest there, and I want a pair of steady eyes on it.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He studied me for a moment longer. “Good. You’ll learn quickly. You’ve got the look of a man who listens more than he talks. Keep it that way.”
“I will, sir.”
The captain gave a curt nod and turned to leave. His boots struck the stone in even rhythm, fading as he crossed the yard.
I stayed where I was, staring out through the open gates. The road stretched far into the fields, pale under the late sunlight. For a while, I simply watched the wind ripple through the grass and thought about nothing at all.
A voice broke the quiet behind me. “I hope I’m not late.”
I turned, already expecting trouble.
A knight approached from across the yard, his blond hair shining in the light, his armor a little too polished for someone on duty. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never once worried about being in the right place at the right time.
“You must be the one I was supposed to be guarding with,” I said.
He grinned, stopping a few paces away. “That depends. Are you Sir William Alaricson?”
I nodded once.
“Then yes,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Sir Eric of Talwood. Apologies for my late arrival. The kitchen had honeyed bread this morning, and I have a weakness for it.”
I looked at him flatly. “You were expected an hour ago.”
He laughed, unbothered. “You sound like the captain already. Careful, or they’ll start calling you old before your time.”
I said nothing and turned my gaze back to the road.
Eric stepped closer, folding his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Not when there’s nothing worth saying.”
He let out a low whistle. “Cold. I like that. Keeps people guessing.”
I ignored him. The air was quiet again save for the distant sound of hooves somewhere beyond the walls.
Eric stayed silent for a moment, then said softly, “So, the newest knight in Elarion, standing guard at the gate. Feels a little strange, does it not?”
I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You train your whole life for glory, then they hand you a post by the gate. Seems the crown likes to test its knights’ patience first.”
I allowed a faint smile. “Then it’s a good test.”
He chuckled. “Maybe so.”
For a while we stood watching the others cross the yard. The clang of steel and the smell of oil and horse filled the evening air. Sunlight flashed on armor, catching along the walls like a living fire.
After a moment, he leaned closer. “Since you’re new, I should tell you a few things. Rules that aren’t written anywhere but matter all the same.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
He nodded toward the courtyard. “Rule one. Whatever you do, do not look at the princess.”
I frowned. “What?”
He grinned as if the idea amused him. “I’m serious. The king’s temper is as famous as his crown. Look at her too long, and he takes it as a personal insult. See that man over there?”
I followed his gaze to a soldier limping across the yard. His leg dragged slightly with each step, his armor dull with age and scratches.
Eric lowered his voice. “That’s him. He made the mistake of looking at the princess for less than ten seconds while the king was in the room. He’s been limping ever since.”
I studied the man for a long moment. His face was turned toward the ground and his shoulders hunched as though still carrying the
weight of that mistake.
“Noted.” I said quietly.
Eric smirked. “Good. I like you. You actually listen.”
I turned my eyes back to the gate, though my thoughts lingered on his words.
The thought of the princess did not interest me much.
I had never seen her, only heard whispers about her beauty, her defiance, her father’s wrath.
Every knight had his own version of her story, passed around like a warning or a prayer.
But I had already seen someone far more beautiful. Someone real.
The memory came unbidden: the soft fall of pale hair, the clear blue of her eyes, the quiet strength in her voice. For a moment, the courtyard around me faded. The noise of clashing steel and shouting men softened, replaced by my own thoughts.
I drew a slow breath and looked away from the castle towers.
Some things were better left in memory.
—
The hours passed slowly. The sun sank behind the towers, and the courtyard emptied until only a few guards remained at their posts. The torches along the wall flickered to life, their flames bending in the cool wind.
Eric stretched his arms and yawned. “Finally. Shift’s over. Time to rest before I start snoring on my feet.”
I nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.
He gave me a knowing grin. “Suit yourself. The barracks are through the west corridor. I’ll save you a bed before the good ones are gone.”
“Go,” I said quietly.
He laughed as he walked off. “Don’t get lost, Sir Stoneface.”
When he was gone, I looked up at the castle. Its towers reached high into the night, dark against the faint glow of the moon. It felt strange being inside its walls after years of only seeing it from a distance.
I leaned my spear against the gate and began to unfasten the straps of my chestplate.
The armor came loose with a dull scrape, heavy in my hands.
I set it down beside me and rolled my shoulders.
The air was cool against my tunic, and I breathed in deeply.
For the first time that day, the weight on my chest eased a little.
I should have gone to the barracks then. Instead, I found myself
walking along the outer path, drawn by curiosity. The night was still, and I wanted to see more of the castle’s edges, the parts where the noise did not reach.
The path led toward the trees that bordered the training fields. The wind rustled through the leaves, soft at first, then sharper, like whispers slipping between the branches.
I slowed.
The quiet here was different. Too still. The kind of stillness that
listens back.
A prickle ran down my neck. My hand went instinctively to the hilt at my side.
I turned my head, scanning the dark. The moonlight spilled across the path, pale and clean, but the shadows beneath the trees were thick, shifting.
Nothing. Only the creak of wood and the distant sound of water somewhere beyond the walls.
I exhaled, started forward again.
A single step. Then another.
The strike came fast.
A flash of movement, then a deep, tearing pain across my shoulder blade. The shock stole my breath. I stumbled forward, gripping the wound as a voice hissed behind me.
“Told you this wasn’t over.”
I spun around, teeth clenched. The moonlight caught the edge of
a blade and the sneer of a familiar face.
The men from the theatre. The one in front lunged again, but this time I was ready.
I drew my sword in a single motion and met his attack with a clash of steel.
The force rattled through my arm, but I pushed forward, slamming my shoulder into his chest. He hit the ground hard.
The second came from my right. I turned and caught his wrist before he could strike, twisting until he cried out. My sword hilt met his ribs, and he staggered back, gasping.
For a moment, both of them stared at me, eyes wide, breath ragged. Then they turned and bolted into the trees, crashing through the undergrowth until the sound of them was gone.
Cowards.
I stood still for a long moment, the night spinning softly around me. My shoulder burned with every heartbeat, blood running warm down my back. I pressed my hand to the wound. My palm came away red.
The sight steadied me more than it frightened me. Pain meant I was still here. Still standing.
I turned toward the castle. The lights in the distance flickered through the mist, gold against the dark. They looked farther than they should have.
I could still move.
Slowly, I bent to pick up my chestplate, tucking it under one arm.
I started walking again, one careful step after another. Every movement sent a pulse of fire through my shoulder, but the rhythm of my steps helped keep me upright.
I fixed my eyes on the lights ahead. Each step felt heavier than the last, yet the quiet steadied me.
I just needed to reach the walls. After that, I would rest.