The Twisted Adventures of Sir Weimar

Chapter 7: The Appointment

"Where in Ziggy's name where you? You should have been attending to your duties on the farm or keeping an eye on father rather than dilly dallying with those good for nothing scum you call friends. "

Tension clutched at Weimar's chest like a talon as he followed his older brother to a makeshift medical tent that would serve as a quarter for the wounded, dead, or dying. He had hoped for the best, but also expected the worse as well. After all, the Kingdom of Aislundia was constantly at war with either brigands, inhuman invaders, and occasionally neighboring kingdoms. It didn't help that the Outer territories were generally the first to take the brunt of an attack like what they had experienced earlier. All that the Aislundian Royal Brigades had offered for protection was the Territorial Guard that reported to the Viceroy, but it was a far cry from the adequate force that was necessary to contend with every threat the kingdom faced.  Weimar felt his blood boil.

What if the Redwood or even the Alagaysian kingdom decided to invade today? King  Lothar and the rest of the Kamon family will surely be caught flat-footed. If the royals weren't so busy with their diplomatic overtures, my dad wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

As the two Rice boys entered the red and white tent with the white cross of the InterKingdom Medical Unit, a volunteer organization that took in healers, nurses, and volunteers from all races in order to administer healing services to the wounded, sick, or dying, Weimar was able to get a glimpse of the casualties of the tussle with the mountaineers.  Men, some presumably from the Territorial Guard or just laymen defending their lives and their families, lay in cots with amputated limbs or grievous wounds as the healers clad in white, red, or both with the Medical emblem on their smocks, worked on them. Weimar also noticed a few woman and girls his age and some younger that happened to be caught in the middle of the skirmish with the ruffians being worked on by the healers.

Zygmar's hand! How could this have happened? I mean, we were raided several times by the outlaws, but not on this caliber. Was this is a coordinated attack? If so, things aren't looking up for our land, not to mention the kingdom.

"There he is!" 

Weimar let out a startled yelp as Veerus yanked his arm toward the leftmost corner of the large tent. It was large enough to be considered a pavillion in the young farmer's opinion.  Veerus had dragged his younger brother over to the cot where their father was being tended to by two nurses and one healer.  The teenager gasped as he saw the state his  father was in. It was like a horse had done a Northern Jyg all over him twofold. 

"See what you have done!" Veerus grabbed Weimar by the scruff of his neck and forced him to look their heavily wounded and bleeding father over. "This was all your doing."

"Don't be ridiculous, Veerus!" Faramahr Rice wheezed between his words. "Nothing would have prevented this fate from befalling on me. Weimar, don't feel guilty at all. None of this is due to your doings."

"B-but Father." Weimar' s brown eyes filled with unshed tears. "If only I was with you rather than attending some joust with my friends, I would have been able to prevent you from getting cleaved by the outlaws."

"My boy." Faramahr Rice reached a tightly bandaged hand over to clasp his younger son's hand. A sliver of a frown played upon Veerus's mouth for brief moment, but Weimar was able to spot it. It wasn't a confidential fact that Veerus was the jealous older brother always vying for attention. "My current condition wouldn't have been evaded regardless of your presence. Moreover, the blasted ruffians weren't the cause of my wounds, at least not directly. My bruises and cuts are the result of Twilight stampeding in response to the stables being burned."

Weimar let out a small sigh. Even though his father's words were intended to assuage his guilt, it did very little to the tendrils of culpability clutching at his heart like the tentacles of  Kraken.  If he hadn't been cowering with his friends in the corner as the knights of the melee fought of the invaders, he would have been at his father's side defending Sir Globar's prized stallion, possibly with the help of Syras, Sangrid, and their two new companions. Now it was possible that his lapse in judgement had cost his father his position as the knight's stablehand. If there was only a way to make up for it.

"Fear not, my second son. Twilight is safe and sound and I am still Sir Globar's stablehand. Or I was until I decided to bequeath that position to someone else."

Weimar couldn't believe his ears. It was as if his father had read his mind. So he still was employed by one of the most renown knights of the area-wait, what was that last line again?

"Father, I am not sure if I heard you carefully, but why are you stepping down? You have committed no cowardice or treason against Sir Globar."

The elder Rice smiled weakly at his son. "It is because I wanted someone else to have the honor of caring for the valiant knight's steed. "

"Eh, who?" Veerus frowned. Weimar also wanted to know who was going to replace their father's position.

"If anyone deserves the honor, it is you-Weimar." 

Both brothers were taken back at that. Veerus and Weimar then exchanged glances before Veerus turned angrily to his father. 

"I beg to differ. Why Weimar? He is a lazy lout back at the farm. He leaves his chores to either me or William to accomplish. "

"Nonsense!" Faramahr glowered, his dark brown beard, streaked with gray streaks, twisting in conjunction with hi face. "That is now what I heard from your mother or Jenks the farmhand. Weimar is more than capable of handling one of the most prized horses of the kingdom."

"That's correct, but I have something else in mind."

Weimar and his older brother turned around to see Sir Globar himself, clad in a black and red cloak over his pearl white armor that was streaked with blood. He still held his broadsword, half of the blade immersed with the rust-colored blood of the wild folk he smote,  as he stepped between the brothers and approached his stable hand. 

"How are you faring, Faramahr?"

Weimar's father coughed before he responded. "I have seen better days, but I will live. "

"That is reassuring." The famous knight smiled as he clasped his stable hand's left arm. "I know we had a deal, but I am going to renege on it."

Weimar tensed up a bit. No way this could be happening. Maybe his father would still retain his position or did the knight already have someone in mind to replace him with?

"Please do tell." Faramahr's grey eyes looked strained as if he had aged twofold. Perhaps he was thinking along the same lines as Weimar.  Veerus also shuffled restlessly.

"Rather than make your son a stable hand much like yourself, I have other things in mind for him."

Weimar's ears perked. Other things? Could that mean....

"Ever since my squire Ben had been cut down during the Goblin Wars, I needed to find a suitable replacement, but lacked any viable candidates until now. " Sir Globar turned to look into Weimar's eyes. The boy noticed that the famed warrior's sea blue eyes had taken on a lighter tone. "Weimar Rice, will you accept a post as my squire?"

Did he really ask me that? Tell me I am not dreaming.

Weimar blinked twice, but saw that nothing had changed since before he blinked. Well, he was living in a dream world.

"I accept your proposal-Sir!"

Weimar got onto his knee to show his respect and fealty.  Sir Globar just chuckled and stroked his light brown beard. 

"Come on , lad. No need to be so formal.  I don't require a strict regiment unlike the other knights."

Weimar rose,his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He could see Veerus glance downwards, but not before he saw the blazing anger shining in the older Rice boy's eyes. "Sorry, sir."

"Just call me Globar." The knight proved to be a man of good humor. "Or if you prefer, Rob would suffice."

"Since my son is now your squire, who is your new stable hand?" Faramahr asked before plunging into another bout of coughing.

"Ah, I was just getting to that." Sir Robin Globar turned to the side and motioned with his hand. Weimar felt his eyes go wide as he watched the new stable hand, a boy about his age approach and stand in front of him beside his new master.

"What? Why are you looking at me like I am a fiery Equaan?" Syras asked.