The Knights of Haile: A Trinity of Heroes

7

For the first time in weeks, Razzius slept peacefully. There were no curse words being shouted early morning, no horse shit being slung at his open window, nothing.

Razzius pulled a burlap blanket over himself to keep warm in the waning of the previous evening's fireplace. He breathed deep and opened his eyes.

There across the living room, through a crack in his door, he could see his father, Wyrn Grimm, passed out in a wooden rocking chair with a bottle of something pungent grasped in his old, gnarled fingers. He belched. "Bout time you wake!" He stirred.

Razzius sighed. He opened the door and entered the main living area of their home. "Father, what needs to be tended to today?"

Wyrn drank.

And drank...

And drank.

Razzius cleared his throat. "If there is nothing here that requires my immediate attention, then may I-"

Wyrn belched loudly and stirred again, turning so he could see his son. Wyrn's face had a scar down the left side and the wrinkles across his eyes and cheeks and chin showed his age easily. "The fuck you mean, boy? 'If there is nothing', there is always something!" He stood, nearly falling over himself. He made certain to protect the bottle of alcohol he held by clutching it to his chest. He stood now, right in his son's face. He breathed a foul breath onto him. "When I was your age, I never needed for direction like you. Get the house cleaned and get out of my presence." He pushed his hand into Razzius' face. "Make yerself useful and make us some money, child." Wyrn collapsed back into his chair and drank once again. "Get out!"

Razzius hurried from their home and found himself gagging, even wretching at the stench of his father. "Slob hasn't bathed in a month!" He splashed water from a rain bucket in his face and set about tidying up around their small yet sufficient home. It wasn't long and he found himself with nothing left to do. Razzius shrugged and left home, headed for the castle.

He kept looking left and right, back and forth, checking his surroundings for any sign of Fillip and his cohorts. Nothing. He breathed deep and walked briskly passed the Silver Shield pub. He had spent far too many nights dragging his drunken father away from that place. And now, tonight, Benjamin and Lawrence expected him to spend even more time there. How could they ever know? Razzius reasoned to himself. It wouldn't be fair to hold this against them.

"Lad!" a voice called suddenly. "A moment!"

Razzius turned and saw Bryce Maxwell, Captain of the Knight Guard heading for him. Surely, he was not speaking to Razzius. The boy continued onward to the castle.

"Lad! Halt!" Bryce called once more, placing a firm hand on Razzius' shoulder. "Are you the young lad I was told would meet me this morning, the one I'm to train?"

Razzius stopped. He froze. This was Captain Bryce Maxwell, Captain of the Knight Guard. Surely he had better things to do than look after Razzius all morning.

"Well, lad?"

"Aye," Razzius responded instinctually. "At your service, my Lord!"

"On me, lad!" Bryce directed Razzius toward the castle. "Let's get you in proper gear, lad."

"Proper gear?" Razzius inquired. "What do you mean, my Lord?"

Bryce half smiled. "You're to be my Squire, lad."

*

Lawrence Sanctus shook awake. "Mum!" He sat up and looked around the empty single room shack home that they lived in. "Mum?" She was gone.

Lawrence stood and pushed the door open. There, with a broom in her hand and a fresh kettle of water boiling over the cook fire was his mother. She looked well...at least better than she had.