The Flight & The Fall

IV. Dawnbreaker

A moon's cycle had passed since his father's shield training, and yet only had even more lessons come and gone. Footwork, grip strength, bashing, agility, acrobatics... all essential skills in his growth as a young warrior that would allow him to prove his strength. His devotion to Yuna felt all the more hardened- with the strength of his soul wrapped with steel plate armor, prepped for the sole purpose to defend and protect.

But nights had grown to become torrentially sleepless with the pressure of his practice marring his skin and spirit both. The dark circles beneath his eyes were like a permanent stain now, with his dreams habitually infiltrated by the summons of his father's voice commanding him to work harder and do better. Surface level fatigue felt like exhaustion, deep to the point where he wondered sometimes if such a feeling could leave a scar.

Sir Orcus' teachings had always grown more difficult throughout the years, but these past months felt like they had reached an unforeseen peak. Five days of training each week had turned into seven, with their days beginning at dawn so that they could pay homage to Yuna before they sparred.

And often, his training with his father would run so closely to his common work that Icarus barely found the time to even clean up before presenting himself to Nana's Bakery mid-day.

Each time she saw him, the little halfling woman was like a storm of fury, for reasons he couldn't understand. He always took the time to dress presentably and bandage his wounds, calling on his final reserves of energy to complete whatever tasks she needed done. Yet alas, she'd begun to forcibly revoke his duties in order to provide him with a single day off, which then became two. And just once did she manage to restrict him from coming in for three days in a row, which was promptly taken back once she found out he'd merely taken a side job for the lumber mill. At first, Icarus had assumed that he'd offended the grandmother in some way, and he feared that she was attempting to push him out of the business.

But it was nothing of the sort.

You need rest, or maybe some whiskey. Nana would say one particular day. I worry about you, Russie. That lunacratic man is running you into the ground.

Ha, to think that sleep or liquor would do any better for his health than intensive training. Why did everyone around him think that it was an impediment rather than a necessity?

He was alright. Everything was fine.

He was just so... tired.

It was the end goal that kept him going throughout it all. Knighthood. The sole thing that had become nearly as unattainable as grasping the moon from the night sky.

Daily Icarus would watch men and women from the Order of Yuna patrol the streets through the day, drinking at the taverns or commanding carriages to succor civilians off-island among their many miscellaneous tasks. He admired their pristine plate armor, worn from battle but polished and gleaming brightly, their shields adorned with the crest of Dawn, and shoulder capes of amber and gold. An honorable bunch, with his father shining brightly at their forefront.

Only time could tell if Icarus would ever become one of them, for he knew their initiation process well. Yuna's Knights never allowed prospecting fighters or clerics to contact them directly, as if it was seen that one met the requirements for the Order of Yuna, the knights came to you.

And it was one fateful autumn, that the day finally came.

It had been early that morn when Squire Marco Farhaven knocked on the Dawnguard family door, red-faced and clutching a summons inhand. It was an honor enough for the young squire to be the one sent to receive him, with his father, Sir Sigric Farhaven, being Knight Commander; a title seconded only to that of his father's. The second in command to the entirety of the knights he respected so greatly.