The Twisted Adventures of Sir Weimar

Ch.13: Fjarlan

"How much farther, Sir? We've been riding all night and I really need to rest my aching bum.  I bet that the legs of these horses will wear out any moment."

As the early dawn sky, dotted with twinkling stars, started to lighten its shade of blue,  Weimar glanced over at his friend and companion Syras as they rode after his mentor, Sir Robin Globar,  the dark outline of him and his horse visible against the gloom of the pre-dawn morning.  He had to agree on his fellow villager on the importance of taking a break, even for a precious five minutes. Surely, the beasts of burden they were riding were reaching their limits and it wouldn't be long they bucked their occupants off their back. Weimar had seen it happen to Veerus once when he had taken his Dolan Trotter to visit the ruins of the Wessyk settlement and back without stopping to let his mount feed or drink.  That was a funny sight to see his older brother covered in muck, but the last thing he needed was for it to happen far from home. The squire wouldn't be able to bear the shame of looking like a swamp beast before strangers. 

The Aislundian knight turned his head before addressing them.  "Hang tight, boys. There is no point in stopping now that we are almost upon our destination. I promised our host Morghaldt that we'd arrive first thing in the morning and I don't intend to keep him waiting. After all, despite his skills with fire manipulation, he is short on temper. I'd rather not tempt his fiery character. " The man of honor chuckled at the last bit. "Pardon the pun. I couldn't resist."

"I wouldn't have minded walking the rest of the way on foot," Syras  grumbled. "We would still make it before sun up minus the sore arses. I could bloody well use a bath as well."

"What we all really require is a hot meal and sleep," Weimar spoke for the first time.  "Once we acquire both, I will be eager to learn of the purpose of our visit to your old friend."

"I wouldn't necessarily call him a friend," Sir Globar replied.  "As for why we are paying him a visit,  it is a formal courtesy to check on how an old acquaintance is doing for one. Plus, he owes me a favor."

"So that's why we are heading off on this perilous adventure to Fjarlan," Syras sarcastically grumbled.  "You want to have some buddy time with this More Halt lad while we tend to the horses and do some busy work. Ask us to serve you wine while we are at it."

"I assure you I have no such intentions," Their mentor responded, glancing back at them , his maroon cloak flapping in the wind. "Besides, you will have your bed and breakfast once we arrive. We are only a couple leagues away from the town of Fjarlan. It is an important trade hub as it is nestled between the mountain roads of the Kingdoms of Ruslan and Nokkiev. "

Syras moaned. "Please spare us the geography lesson. I want to wait until I reach Mr. Morgan's to crash. "

As the knight and stable hand bickered amongst themselves, Weimar decided to stay out of it and ruminate with his own thoughts as company.  Ever since they left his village all those weeks ago after the bandit attack, Sir Globar and Weimar had only sparred a few times with each other. The very first lesson he received was a breathing technique. Admittedly, that was his least favorite exercise, but he had to do it as part of his training. Syras, despite not being a squire, was given to the same regimen. Possibly due to the groom needing to be fit enough to hold his own should they face a surprise ambush from outlaws, enemy soldiers, or even the creatures of the dark. From what he had seen, Weimar was aware of Syras's prowess in battle. Though some other aspects needed significant improvement. 

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"Alright lads, you will receive your first exercise as squires or in your case, a warrior in training." The acclaimed night glanced over at Syras as the boys rested in on straw beds of a  stable in the town of Kattgaard, known for providing lumber.