Mud seeped through the rotten wood planks laid out across the bog. Kain's backside was raw, and each time the horse staggered through the thick mud, a jolt of pain hit him. The boy had only left his village to hunt in the forest; he had seen no other village, and now, at the end of the muddy road, was a wall of stone that stretched tenfold the length of his little village and thrice the height of even the biggest house. Men walked the walls in pairs and seemed to greet the knights as they approached.
The colossal wooden doors creaked open like a gaping maw and swallowed the knights, horses and lone boy as the doors closed behind them. Men bustled around them as the other knights slid from their saddles and landed in the mud. Ser Finnian helped Kain down from the horse and guided him into the inner keep. It was a castle within a castle, the size of his village by itself. The others broke off, leaving just Ser Finnian and Kain alone in the winding halls.
After some time walking through the narrow hallways, they found themselves standing in a large room in front of an elevated table. A man with hair so greasy it seemed to shine in the light sat alone in the middle of the table, holding a half-eaten onion.
"Who's this then?" Kain averted his eyes at the sight of the man chewing as he spoke.
"This is Kain, my lord. When we were at the village, he showed some promise, so I thought I could take him on as my squire" Ser Finnian pushed Kain forward with one hand.
The boy only gave an awkward bow before taking a half step back.
"Commoners will not be knights here, I am no Scutler", he pointed a crooked finger at the knight.
"A.. a cadet then my lord", Ser Finnian flashed a desperate look for a moment before kneeling.
"Well, I'm not letting a child walk alone back to wherever he's from, or do I intend to waste a horse on the boy?" The lord waved them away.
"Well, you won't be a knight, but a trained soldier makes better money than you could hope for otherwise" Finnian gave a weak smile and patted the boy on the shoulder.
'A soldier, he thought.
Two tired men walked past them on patrol. They wore mud-speckled armour, and their faces were covered in scars and dirt.
"I want to be a knight", Kain looked up at Finnian with a stubborn look.
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you", he ruffled Kain's black hair and sighed.
"Spend a night with the soldiers and sleep on it, alright?" The knight turned his back.
He followed behind the knight for some time before reaching the courtyard. Kain heard the gate close behind a group of golden knights.
The two leading them had intricate carvings across their armour, vines and flowers wrapped around each inch of them. Their cloaks were red with white fur along the neck.
"Who are they?" Kain turned to Ser Finnian
"Lord Varin Gild and his father Osrin"
"Hmm", Kain stared at them until the younger knight's eyes met his.
Lord Varin opened his mouth to speak, but saw the state of Kain and only laughed. Kain gritted his teeth and creased his nose and brow.
"Why are they here?" his words welled with spite.
"Every few years, cadets from across Ashbarrow gather at one of the lordly houses for a tournament" He ushered Kain into the empty barracks.
"Let me participate," Kain clenched his fists.
Laughter filled the silent barracks, but Kain just stood still with a stern look.
"Well, I am the master-at-arms, so it's my call, He pondered for a moment.
"I can't have my lord embarrassed. I'm sorry, kid," he looks down with sad eyes.
"What if I fight on my own?" A pit grows in his gut.
"There's nothing in the rules saying you can't be a commoner, but a knight has to certify you to fight" The tired knight places his hands on his hips and sighs.
"Then give me yours", the words rushed from Kain's mouth.
"I can't place my lord in a situation like that, and you'll need armour and arms, neither of which you have, son" Ser Finnian crouches on one knee.
"I'll take you back" his gauntleted hand squeezed Kain's shoulder.
Kain hasn't said a word since they had set off, but at the sight of his village, his watering eyes light up.
"Ser Othrick", he pointed to the old knight's house and shook Finnian.
"Take me to him", Kain stammered.
They reached his front door, and Kain jumped off the horse and flung his door open. The old man was tending to his fireplace and turned to see Kain in his doorway.
"Kain?" He struggled to rise.
"Do you have your old armour?" he moved to help the old man.
"Haha, I kept it from my mercenary days. I keep it in the loft, why?" he stood without help.
"There's a tournament, and I need a sword, armour and a knight to swear for me." He lowered his head to the old knight.
"Please, Ser, I promise I won't do anything to lessen your name" Desperation grew more and more as the old man stayed silent.
His face wrinkled more than it already had as he smiled.
"Your father will never forgive me", he took Kain to his bedroom where a panel sat crooked in its frame.
After so many years, the wood had warped and bowed, no longer fitting snugly. Kain stood on a chair and lifted himself through the narrow hole in the ceiling. Finnian wandered in and stood under it, trying to see through the darkness above him.
A loose helmet crashed against his nose and fell to his feet. Finnian's armour clinked as he reached down to pick up the helm. A white cloak enveloped him in its furry embrace.
Othrick let out a hearty laugh, and Kain jumped down with the rest in his arms.
"Watch what you're doing", Finnian pulled the white wolf pelt off of him.
"I wore this when I was older than you, but you're a big lad" Othrick sat on the end of his bed and watched as Kain laid each piece of armour out.
A half helm with a veil of chainmail, breastplate scarred, a pointed dagger, scratched and engraved with all sorts of foreign patterns, and a great sword the size of Kain himself all sat laid out in the bed.
"I have only ever used a normal sword", he felt the weight of the thing in his hands.
"You learn quick", the old man picked up the helm and lowered it onto Kain.
Finnian walked to the window to see the sun just peaking over the treeline. The village was silent as always. Ser Othrick helped Kain into the gambeson and then the armour. It was a struggle to move, but with each step he took through the house, he felt more and more comfortable.
Without thought, he found himself at the edge of the bog. His sabatons filled with cold water as his feet moved on their own. He trudged through the mud, dirtying the water with each heavy-footed step.
He struggles to lift his leg up onto the island and crushes countless white flowers in his attempt. He sat in the grass for some time before Finnian appeared with a lit lantern in one hand and the rolled-up wolf pelt cloak in the other.
Kain climbed back into the water and joined him in the journey back to Castle Braemoor. The night was cold, but with the wolf pelt wrapped around him, Kain hardly felt a chill.
"Othrick wrote you a recommendation for the tournament", Finnian handed Kain a rolled-up piece of paper; the ink holding it together was red and void of any mark.
The sun had faded, and the moon hung in the sky by the time they reached the castle again.
"If you intend to fight at this tournament, you can't stay in the castle" Finnian stopped in sight of the castle and took a dirt path to the west.
The swamp slowly began to turn into a filthy lake, and mud and skeletons littered the water. Until, like an oasis, a giant island sat just above the water, appearing only just illuminated by lantern light.
Once again, his sabatons filled and gurgled as their empty sides filled with water. Finnian left him a lantern and some dried meat. White flowers consumed the island far more than they had ever been on the one at home. He sat and gnawed pieces from the stick of jerky until sleep took him.
He awoke to the sound of birds squawking and White flowers filling his visor.