the garden within the wasteland

Act 2, part 11

The night was terrible.
The barrack that Touri had titled her "abode," while lacking in the regular self-idolized jewels that spread through this city, it made up for it with all the dust that spread inside her sanctuary. How can a self-respecting daughter of the waste, or at least a knight so clingy to her own title, allow her own resting place to fall into such disorder? It bypasses me in logic and irritates me in thought. Weapons, tools, and various armors had been scattered around the barracks; not a singular speck of land was left that my feet might land on, but I was infused and empowered by the will of adept adaptation. Touri had traversed through each sharp weapon with practiced elegance and confidence before gesturing with both hands in a rather flamboyant way.

"Here shall mark your resting spot for the night!"

And with stars In her eyes and a spark in her hands, pointed to a singular slab of stone with no blanket or pillow to disguise it as a bed, I had wished to retort to her on her injustice till my eyes peered onto her own bed. Another slab of stone with no accessories.

So I had slept through the night as best I could. When the pleasant greeting of a still-young sun blasted onto my face through the open shaft in place of a window, I spent not a minute longer asleep, no longer feeling the painful ache of my shattered arm, as my entire body screamed in agony now.

I had spotted the self-proclaimed white knight appearing to have risen before the sun had; she was hard at work polishing her shield, her eyes glancing to me as I instantly pulled myself upwards.

"Must've been quite the blissful slumber after such weary travels, was it not, ereo?"

I had held myself back to not insult her.

"It was indeed."

She quickly rose to her feet, slamming down her shield with a mighty tap, her other arm flaunting as she did.

"THEN SHALL WE GET STARTED ON THE TRAINING?"

My ears began to ring. This is a far cry from the somber, quiet morrows of the place I was raised in, but this havoc is an admirable one; I shall take it any day over the silence accompanied by the howling of my arm I had feared to grow accustomed to.

"And what shall my training entail?"

"A DUTY OF A KNIGHT IS A NOBLE YET SIMPLE ONE. TO PROTECT ALL INNOCENCE FROM TYRANNY. YET. This kingdom finds its cells empty and its knaves scarce."

She proclaimed in the same blazing manner before dying down, her eyes reflecting on her own position.

"Then why do you remain enchained to your own title?"
I questioned my voice in between venom and envy, but I believe she may have viewed my intentions differently.

"Perhaps you are soon to understand the true joy of what it means to belong to a title! Now follow me into the yard!"

Belong to a title? She speaks as if talking about some lord, some invisible, all-powerful force that is mightier than me and only offers me a hand if I am to bow before it. I refuse to belong to it. I had held my head high without some crutch; if I am to be remembered, I am to be remembered BY NAME.

But I had in truth no motive to object to experiencing what she believes to be training; my arm may still be shattered in a pain caused by my older self onto my newer self. But if I am to let such a thing as an arm restrain my future, then I would rather rip it off right now.

I followed her; no matter how spike- and metal-filled her floors, I found myself following in each of her steps, not out of fear I may shatter my leg in unison, but in a calling I had yet to gift with a name or have it named for me. A strange inaudible calling of her inconspicuous aura. So I let that call take a fraction of the space this sorrow had filled within me.