laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

"...And then in the year nine-twenty-five, Sir Conner led his thirty-seven templar and seventy five men-at-arms into the jaws of the Kuzomen army that held the eastern city of Corpach," Edmund instructed as Alexander and his classmates sat mesmerized by the tale. "There, he called upon Arhus to guide his men to victory. As they stormed the baron's keep, he fell and gave his life for the honor of the king and the church but, his men went on and destroyed the tower and captured the baron. They carried his body back, wrapped in the flag of their order and on their shields to bury him in the cemetery here at the cathedral."

Alexander watched the procession in his mind to the hero as they walked into the main gate, heads lowered as the bishop gave last rites and wondered what the knight's last wish would have been. Now nine years old, he had learned much about the order and the church and was hungry for more.
Brother Edmund looked at the hourglass sitting on the corner of his desk to notice his time was almost up.

"Alright, boys, I want you to all read the rest of the 'War on the Valga' and by next week, I want you to write your essays and have them on my desk by the twentieth. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they all answered in unison, some more energetic than others as Alexander closed his book and began putting his things into his backpack.

"You may go and tend to your chores before dinner," the elder priest instructed as he also cleaned up his papers and books.

"Don't forget," Nicholas interrupted his thoughts, tapping him on the arm. "Sir Donegil wanted us to bring our practise weapons today."

Alexander nodded. "Thanks, I almost forgot," he stated and rose as he shouldered his backpack. Looking over most of his classmates, he also got most of the attention from the more energetic wishing to gain the favor of the priests and their templar instructors. He followed them into the main hallway and then turned left, leaving most as he passed other classrooms now emptying with various aged boys and teenagers. Picking his way through, he eventually arrived in the stables where he passed several armored knights. Black surcoats and the golden symbol of the Order of the Golden Scepter emblazoned on their chests caught his attention immediately. Two of the five had gold trim on their surcoats, denoting captains as one of their junior officers turned to the boy passing by.

"Hey, son, can you gather some barley for our horses?"

"Right away, sir." Alexander dropped his backpack into the hay covered floor and quickly rushed to the cluster of seven barrels in the far corner. Hurriedly, he hefted the small barrel onto his shoulder and carried it to the awaiting horses as the paladins suddenly stopped their conversation and watched. He dropped it onto the floor and popped the lid from it and stepped back. "Do they require water also, sirs?"

They all stared for a moment. "No, thank you," the lieutenant stated, grinning. "I'd be afraid that you would want to carry the trough to them also."

Alexander smiled sheepishly. "No, sir. But sometimes the trough needs to be filled."

He nodded, short cropped, brown hair streaked over the ears by grey. "How old are you, son?"

"I just turned nine, sir."

His brown eyes went wide. "By the gods, Arhus is training up a large one, isn't he? What's your name?"

"Alexander, sir."

He nodded as his eyes glanced to the dormitory and school, then back to the boy before him. "I take it that you're training to become a templar?"

"I hope to be one, sir. Father Edmund said that only the most dedicated get to be one and I'm trying really hard," sweat beaded up on his forehead in nervousness being in the presence of these men that he had emulated most of his life.

"It takes a serious mind, a pure heart and a good ear. Mind what the priests tell you and allow Arhus to guide your heart. Life itself is the greatest teacher, you'll find that out soon enough," the paladin extended his hand. "My name's Stephen."

Alexander bowed, then apprehensively took the strong, tanned hand that engulfed his own.

"I hope to hear great things about you in the future, Alexander."

Emotion welled as he felt his eyes become sore from tears that soon streamed down his ruddy cheeks. He wiped his face as the paladin patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't fear those, young man. Tears keep us closer to a pure heart and true motives and we can't deliver justice without an unbiased opinion."

He nodded and sniffed, not as embarrassed any longer. He turned to gather his sack and noticed that another of the knights held it out to him. "Thank you, sir," he received it and bowed, then continued on to the kitchen.

"You're late again," Afton, an older templar trainee and the supervisor in the kitchen called out as Alexander set his pack on the nearest chair against the wall and rushed to the sack of potatoes. "What is to be the punishment today," the teenager asked as he rounded the long table and approached. "You know battles aren't won by those who decide that their enemy will wait for them to be ready. I feel you think that since you're bigger than most your age that the rules don't apply." He leaned down as Alexander began shaving the first potato as he sat on the stool beside two others. "I would hate for that to be the case," warm breath beat against Alexander's neck as he tried to keep to his task. "Give me fifty, now!"

Alexander dropped the potato and knife onto the pile of others and began doing the push-ups. After ten, Afton stepped on his back, "That's one". Anger welled up inside and Alexander pushed the emotion into his arms and shoved upward, pushing the bully away. "And just for that, you're done when I say you're done. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Alexander pushed as the others in the kitchen quietly tried to prepare dinner as sweat beaded up and soon drenched his body. Straining, his arms and face became red from effort as the main door to the great hall opened and he heard the bishop's voice.

"How are things comng along," Gaiven asked.

"Fine, sir. We'll have everything done on time," Afton assured as Alexander pushed out one more and held at the extended position for a moment.

"What's this," the elder priest wondered aloud as he neared Alexander. "What was today's offense?"

"He was late again and when I tried to reason with him, he greeted his instruction with disdain, milord," Afton revealed.

"I think he's learned enough, don't you. Alexander, get up."

Kneeling, Alexander wiped the sweat from his brow and stretched his aching arms that screamed along with his back and shoulders.

"Go wash up and then finish here," Gaiven directed in a fatherly tone.

"Yes, sir." Alexander pushed out tiredly, rose and headed for the wash basin within the large pantry. He leaned over the large barrel cut in half and splashed water onto his face, cooling it from the exertion. 'Success is gained through pain and hardship sometimes,' he recalled from his studies. 'It tempers the heart and body,' he finished mentally, trying to find a reason not to ambush the aggravating teenager who had hounded him for the past four years.
Soon, he returned to his stool and tried to finish his allotment of potatoes before the others began doing it for him. He glanced to Afton, now tending to the ovens, then looked over at his friend Dominic.

"Sorry."

Brown eyes glanced at him confusedly. "For what," the hushed return.

"That you had to try and get more done without my help."

Nodding, the blond headed boy continued on with his cutting. "Just don't be late any more."

Alexander knew that the reason was legitimate, just not one that Afton would hear. "I actually got to help out Sir Stephen and his officers in the stables."

"Lucky."

"If your talking, you're not working! Isn't that right, Alexander," Afton yelled from the opposite side of the long table covered with baskets filling with bread and vegetables.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

As they collected in the large training ground converted from the old gardens that lay across the rear of the cathedral, Alexander stood with Dominic, Nicholas and seventeen others as Sir Donegil strolled across the long rank of boys, wooden swords and shields in hand.

"Young men, today's instruction will be paired combat. Success in battle depends on your teamwork, allowing the man beside you to cross his strikes into the enemy, underneath his shield, over his blade. One of you will block and pull the opponents shield towards you while your partner goes in for the killing blow. Pair up," the aged veteran instructed as Alexander found Dominic and Nicholas both standing beside him.

Donegil eyed the trio. "I said a pair which means two," he reached for Nicholas and pulled him towards the boy to their right. "Size doesn't automatically claim victory, son. Using your brain and being more aggressive does." His serious, green eyes scanned the line of miniature knights. "Alright, now the first pair move and face the pair to your left and so on."

Alexander and Dominic watched then noticed that Nicholas and his new partner would be their foes in this scenario as they both nervously moved to front Alexander and his friend. He hoped that he wouldn't ever have to really fight anyone that he knew and grew up with, but this was only training. His arms still ached from the pushups that he had done earlier and he relaxed his guard for a moment to rest them.

"Attack!" the fiery templar sergeant yelled which sparked a flurry of activity along their line.

Alexander quickly moved and pushed Nicholas backwards, sending him to the ground with a shield bash, then moved to the other boy as Dominic fought off the opponent's sword. Pushing, Alexander moved and locked up the boy's shield with his own and allowed his partner to strike to the leg. Feinting, he twisted his wrist and his wooden blade caught the boy in a textbook move that slapped the side of his head, 'killing' him as Nicholas jumped up and stood there tentatively as the victorious pair moved to engage him.

"What are you waiting for," Donegil screamed. "Don't allow them the victory, move!"

Nicholas, fired by renewed vigor, stooped under his shield as Alexander struck downwards. Catching both offguard, the smaller of the three then speared around Dominic's shield and then quickly fired a slash attempt on Alexander's shield as the larger of them spun and caught the attacker in the arm, then backslashed into the face of his opponent, knocking him backwards as hands dropped his sword and went to his nose.

"Sorry about that," Alexander quickly lowered his guard.

"Sorry about what," their instructor glared. "This man was your enemy," he stopped short, then leaned over to view the damage. "You'll be alright, son. No true soldier ever survived without a scar or two. Get used to it." A large, tanned hand ruffled Nicholas's hair as he turned and critiqued the final battles still raging.

"Are you alright," Alexander asked as he noticed the swelling and reddness amidst tears.

Nodding, Nicholas nursed his wound as Alex reached down and picked up his sword, then handed it back to him. "That was a nice move, by the way."