Prologue

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I promise to all readers that I will only use colorful language for bad people so you won't see it all that often. Also, this chapter has depictions of death and loss.

"Get your keister in there and shovel that horse shit already! I'm not paying you to stand around like an idiot," an older balding man with a large gut barked, wiping spittle from his chin and started hiccupping with the stench of ale almost radiating off him. He turned away, stumbling over a broom handle on his way out of the stables, leaving the sixteen year old boy holding a shovel among the horses who were sticking their heads over the stable doors watching the scene before them. "And get me more ale!"

The young boy let out a big sigh, wrinkling his nose as he peered into one of the stables to eye that large pile behind the horse he would have to shovel out. The stable smelled particularly foul this morning and it was his job to clean it or he wouldn't get the two copper coins he'd been promised for a full days work. It wasn't much, barely anything since he could buy a cheap apple for three copper coins, but it was better then the nothing he used to get and would have to resort to stealing for food or starving out on the streets. He'd only recently gotten this job as a stable boy when he was thirteen and had started out as a tavern stable keeper, taking care of weary travelers horses while they spent the night in the tavern's lodgings, but he'd been bumped up a little to the stable boy for the knights court within the castle wall. Between the castle and the knights training area was a wide moat, the bridge pulled up so no one could easily sneak into the castle, and most of the nights were either sleeping in their barracks into the great hollowed walks that created a protective perimeter around the castle or on patrol around the moat or on the wall above watching out for any invaders or assassins. It was cool to watch, seeing the men in their metal suits with their swords and lances ready to face any foe that dared go after their king, but it was less cool when those same knights could be real jerks like... Three, two, one...

"Ansel!" someone called out just as the young boy unlatched one of the stable doors, the boy, Ansel, cursing under his breath wishing he could hide from them but the only hiding place was within the stable area where the large brown piles were along with the smelly animals adding to the growing turd mountain.

"Sir Hendrick!" Ansel called back, forcing a cheery tone to his voice, and he smiled as he turned to look at the speaker of the voice.

Sir Hendrick wasn't a bad man, respectable even, but he had a tendency to act rather boisterous which made him come off as quite rude. He could be a little too blunt, a real horn dog with the ladies, and he had a little too much self-confidence in himself that made you want to trust him but also punch him in the face. He was quite handsome with a full head of brown hair, a rarity since most knights opted for almost balding since it made it too hot inside when wearing their helmets, and his bright blue eyes really drew attention to him which he knew all too well as he strutted around like he was the most desirable man in the kingdom.

"How's my favorite stable boy? Shoveling poop again, are we," Sir Hendrick said as he appeared in the doorway of the stable and wrinkled his nose but kept his "winning smile" on his face. He says its in case a beautiful woman comes along to be dazzled by him.

"It's my job so shovel I must. Do you need something?" Ansel asked as he slipped into the stable and started shoveling putting everything in a large wagon that would be dumped in a farmers farm for fertilizer for their crops.

"Actually to employ you possibly for a job. Interested?" Sir Hendrick asked and waggled his eyebrows at Ansel who quirked one of his own at the brunette.

"What do you mean a job? And if it's the position as your bro-man to pick up women, it's a dead no," Ansel asked while shoveling away before moving into the next stall with Sir Hendrick trailing behind him.

"Well, you know Arnold the squire boy? The squire to the knight captain who hopes to be a knight even though he can't lift a sword to save his life and is not nearly dashing enough to be one of us," Sir Hendrick said, flipping his slightly long brown hair and smiled dashingly clearly giving an example of what "dashing" was supposed to look like.

"Isn't Arnold the knight captain's son and, I don't know, nine?" Ansel asked with a chuckle, Sir Hendrick scoffing muttering how that didn't matter since the "runt" still couldn't carry a sword which was his point all along.

"Well the kid got sick and some of us are about to be sent on a big crazy mission and we need a new squire. Up for the job? We'll pay you," Sir Hendrick asked which got Ansel's attention.

"Well... what would I have to do?" Ansel asked almost conversationally, moving to the next stall when Sir Hendrick placed his hands on the young boy's shoulders with a knowing smirk on his face.

"You wouldn't have to deal with horse crap, I can tell you that. Unless you accidentally step in some," Sir Hendrick said and smiled before moving away. "Unless you like that sort of thing. Met a guy in a village to the west from here who loves to shovel all kinds of poop. Especially bison, for some reason. Something about them being the most beautiful out of all the crap," Sir Hendrick commented, weirded out by his own story, and started walking out of the stables when Ansel grabbed the back of his shirt.

"When do we leave?"

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