Routing Ruffians on the Ranch (Solo)

[Reed]

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Just like every other workday from sunrise to sundown, Reed was hard at work at the fields again. The hoe chopping resoundingly into the dirt to chop away the small sprouts of weeds that peeked up. The work was monotonous, boring, even torturous sometimes, but it was well worth it to the farmer. Sometimes all he needed to get his mind off of things was a tool in hand and a plot to cultivate. It was beyond him how anyone stayed sane without even a small garden to care for. Then again, what was to be expected of him? The rich earth was his paradise and the crops that grew within his ambrosia. Day to day was a fight against nature for it to cough up its riches, and he relished every single swing of the hoe to maintain it. It was simple, isolated, and downright lonely at times, but it was a way to make a living without needing to make a killing. A stable life that had its own boons above grandeur.

Then again, it didn't mean that he was incapable of dreaming bigger. The Sacaean could gaze all around him and notice the beauty of the world he had yet to tap into. To the north lay the Ilian mountain peaks, homeland of his father and the mercenaries most Arkyan folk would turn to when they sought adventure. To the south far along the plains was the City of Heroes, a gateway to a world of great warriors that the boy had only dreamed of. Far off into the east was the open sea, a place he would never bring his beloved steed yet still wondered what lay beyond the choppy and unrelenting waves. To the west... Well, he wasn't quite sure. But he did know that not all grasses were greener on the other side, adding to the mystery of it that drew him in.

"Reeeeeeed! Break tiiiiiime!"

Sighing with a hint of relief and wiping his moist forehead, the curly ginger turned to see his little sister Beth running towards him with her usual bright smile. Same as always, same time and same manner. Had she not been wearing a different sundress, the squire would have thought that the days never passed. However, this time, things were different: he could vividly remember everything that had recently transpired. Memories of the dismounting of his father, meeting the Heelcutter himself as well as a Chaklai priestess, fleeing a cursed undead complex with his life, and encountering a powerful spellcaster researching mountainous ruins, and following Vincent to a Sacaean vilalge he had never even seen before flooded back. Time really didn't stand still after all, did it? Whether he realized it or not, there was certainly a lot of outreach and growth there no matter how small it may seem.

"Heh. Awright, Sis, I'm-a comin'. I'm gettin' hotter'n a goat's butt in a pepper patch anyways," he joked with a shrug. Beth giggled in response, picking up Reed's tool and swinging it at the dirt himself. He was somewhat glad that Beth wanted to take the whole farming thing seriously: just the other day she was able to do a whole row of crops all by herself before giving up. It was a proud moment for her older brother, watching his young sibling aspire to do what he did so well. He could rest easy knowing that one day she would be just as good as he will and possibly help him get his work done twice as fast. Reed yawned slightly and leaned against one of the fences encasing the plot of land, glancing out to the open plains...

A wide black line had grown slightly larger than he remembered. It stopped at a neighboring farm, instantly encircling it and stopping. From what little he could see, the figures appeared to be armed cavaliers. He could notice about eight of them, maybe six or seven depending on if one was not hidden from view and the circle was incomplete.

"...Beth, head on inside 'n tell Pa to get his lance."

"Huh? B-But Reed-"

"Now, gosh darn it! No time for all the questions, go!" he ordered as the girl ran off in a worried rush. With a loud whistle, the rider had already summoned his horse who looked itching to fight. Gracie clearly knew that being summoned during the field work meant something was wrong. Just the way she liked it.

Reed consciously had been preparing for this day. It was not uncommon for Arkyan farms to be the target of bandits looking for a quick snack to capitalize on their simple lives. Mounting his "noble" steed that dragged her hoof on the floor in anticipation, he drew his pitchfork and fastened multiple straps on his harness. This was the first of many battles that would have more at stake than his breath. Now it was his entire livelihood.

[Reed]

Reed's parents had come running out to join him at the edge of the field to see what was happening. His father running out in his old coat over his armor was nothing new for sure, but seeing his mother follow close behind with a bow in hand was surprising. He certainly hadn't seen her fight at all, not to mention fire a bow before. Then again, it was common for most Arkyans to have a decent knowledge of how to fight anyways. The boy knew that he had grandparents on his mother's side of the family, but the thought of them teaching a simple seamstress how to hit a target with the thing was unheard of. It was hardly the time to ask about it anyways. They had much more pressing matters to attend to.

"So they're finally approaching... I think it's about time we send a message. Dear, stay back and keep an eye on Beth while you're doing your thing. Don't let her leave the house under any circumstances," his father commanded. Wordlessly, the woman backed up and started testing her bowstring as the approaching threat finished their pillaging of the neighboring farm and started to assemble its formation again for the approach towards their own home. "Reed... Be careful."

"Pa, I know that! When I'm done with 'em, they're gonna look like they fell outta the ugly tree 'n hit every last branch on the way down," the squire replied with a determined nod. Gracie nickered in approval.

"...No, you don't, son. This is no game. There are no time outs now. You can't simply raise your arms and call for the end of this one. Either we beat them or we lose everything: that is how this will play out. I've been taking it easy on you not because I feared hurting you, but because I know one thing to be true about cavaliers that joust it out to the death."

"And whaddaya mean by that?"

"Their first target will always be Gracie."

The once excited squire's fierce willpower instantly dissolved into nothing as his father's words echoed in his head. The more that the echoing continued, the louder and truer it became. He was right. The one major weakness of a mounted fighter was that their mount will always be the prime target. For all he knew, that morning might have been the last time that he would saddle up Gracie, brush her mane, give her water and pat her muzzle. His preparation and training to protect his family was so narrow that he completely disregarded the idea of Gracie being the one to pay eventually. The horse he raised as his own. She was like a daughter to him: a daughter that just so happened to like bucking him off, eating some of the carrots that were brought back from the market, and kicking dirt into his face whenever he pushed her too hard. The animal simply snorted and paced forward, noticing her troubled master.

"Riley... Just be careful out there. Remember everything I taught you: bent elbow, tight grip on the reins, lean forward, and if you have to, let the horse buck. You raised her in your own way, and her skill in battle is just as useful as yours. That horse has the strongest kick I've ever seen on this side of Sacae. She has that because you put your heart and soul into allowing her to do that. Now's the time to show me what you- no... What you both are made of," the lancer reassured with a slight smile. Looking back at his father, Reed was already tearing up from the heartfelt statement. It was moments like these that made him truly appreciate having such a loving and supportive man for a teacher and a father. Sniffling and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, the young rider adjusted his grip on his horse. She simply readied herself the only way that she knew how: tail swishing back and forth hard and fast, ears up and alert, and scratching the ground waiting for the command to charge.

---

"Oh... Reed's not gonna do so well out there! I gotta help him! B-But Ma said stay here 'n hide under the bed..." a young girl talked to herself, pacing her small room with a worried whine. Beth, the poor soul, couldn't do anything to get her mother to allow her out to support the defense of their home. Archery was a mess that ended in a barrel of water flooding into the fields, Gracie was always so cruel to the child and wouldn't even let her on to ride, the tools and weapons they had available were heavy enough to render her a sitting duck, and the family was too poor to afford sending her to school to learn magic: the last one was worse considering that they would have heard by now about a magic school located in scenic Northern Nowhere, Sacae. Hint: there was none.

"Oh golly... W-Wait." The child waddled over to a small toy bow fashioned out of a tree limb and a sturdy piece of fabric left over from when her mother had allowed her to help sew her father's worn pants. Picking it up, two blunt "arrows" made of a pebble tied to a stick were left lying against the wall next to it.

She had an idea.

[Reed]

The formation of marauders approached with caution, noticing the trio of armed individuals standing in the enclosed plot. Two on the left and one on the right peeled out of the line to remain at a distance yet within charging range while the apparent "leader" and two riders slowed their mounts to a trot. As the distance closed to a few meters, the leader smirked and locked eyes with Reed's father. A sneer crept upon his face. Reed and Gracie were both seething with anger, but both kept silent: the former in hopes that his father would settle this without the leader's two friends taking turns skewering him and the latter in reluctance for the sake of obeying her rider's wishes.

"Well, well... Old man, my boys and I have been famished since the ride up here. I know of your kind: Ock-yen, right? You're the hospitable type. We would be ever so grateful if you could spare some food to us, maybe some coats. Heard Ilia's colder than a frozen hell, and making it up there with frozen arms isn't on my bucket list," he asked with a somewhat snarky tone. From what Reed could hear, someone had been doing their homework: his tribe was known for taking in strangers. But when strangers come in formation brandishing lances and swords threateningly asking for help, he's learned that it usually isn't need-based.

"Well, we ain't got nothin' for ya. So you can just-"

"Riley. Enough," his father scolded briefly. Reed bit his tongue to hold back the insult coming. "Alright, I can see you boys are tired from your ride over from tormenting our neighbors. How about this? We'll give you two bags of feed for your horses and you can be on your merry way up the mountain into Ilia..." Pausing, the former fur trader readied his Horse Slayer in front of him calmly. The three men held onto their reins tighter when the equestrian discomfort settled in at the threat. "I would take that deal if I were you. It would be a shame if you had to make that journey on foot with a few scrapes."

The archer of a seamstress at her husband's side had already taken aim at the lone horseman on the right flank of the group. Neither warrior budged at the stalemate. Reed's attention was drawn to the two sword-wielding cavaliers on the left flank. Gracie, noticing this, had already taken note of the trajectory of the next charge. During the brief moments of quiet, a chuckle escaped the leader.

"That's kind of you, sir, but I'm afraid we'll be needing more than that. But I know what you're thinking: nothing in the world comes free. You're absolutely right..."

Gracie's gaze darted to the captain. Something was off about him, and she could tell by the way his steed was shifting.

"So it's easy payment. We'll take the supplies we need off your hands, and in return we'll give your boy here a good reason to shut his trap. Discipline him." The leader pointed his lance at the beast.

That was the upper limit of what the horse could take of anger. Rearing up and letting out a somewhat unearthly roar, Reed was forced to hold on tight as his companion sounded out a vicious battle cry. [Daunt used] All three of the men in front of them plus the two on the left flank, horses included, were absolutely shocked by the poignant scream emanating from the animal. The leader and the man on his left were bucked off once the cry sounded, prompting the once calm creatures to start running. The boy's parents quickly turned to view the soon to be rampaging beast before it sped off with their son towards the two it was eyeing before.

"W-Waah! G-Gracie, slow dooown! the Sacaean pleaded to his horse. She didn't listen, closing in on the two who were caught completely off-guard by the charge. With a shaky shout, Reed was able to leave his pitchfork extended to his right and hold it steady as the blunt side of the tongs smacked directly into the chest of a cavalier. While not enough to dismount him, the shock of the impact was enough to almost tip him over. Gracie was by no means satisfied. Following the boy's orders and directions was one thing, but inaction when being threatened was something else. This time, she was out for blood, and every charge she hoped that her master would have the common sense to put the business end of his weapon in front to skewer some fools.

[Reed]

Alas, not even the willpower of an enraged horse alone could result in a kill with one shot. Gracie's all-out sprint continued as she made a wide loop around the open plains. Fortunately for Reed, his panicked reaction had locked the end of the farming tool behind his back so that it would not fly clean out of his hand with one swing. His partner, agitated by the act of defiance, cursed under his breath and began to pursue the duo.

"Gah! G-Gracie, he's-a comin' back! Get me outta heeeere!!" the squire cried out while desperately tugging at the reins. With a huff of defiance, Gracie ignored her master as if to say "grow a pair, you are embarassing me". To an observer, that probably wasn't far from the reality of this encounter. A curly-haired pansy with a pitchfork was screaming for his life as his steed wished for the rivers to run red with the blood of her enemies: just one of many images to come for Reed's future battles. Furiously sharpening her turn, the wild animal directed her path on a direct joust with the approaching foe. The Sacaean originally thought of doing what he had before, but the glint of the cavalier's ornate halberd said differently: the sharp, deadly end was left angled down right where Gracie's chest would be in a few seconds. Swallowing the tense feeling and squeezing his eyes shut tight, the farmboy cocked his arm back and thrust it forward as hard as he could muster without tipping. "Stay away from her!"

The sound of leather being sliced followed by a cry of agony sounded from the rider. Peeking as little as he could up at the rider, the instant that red caught his attention, his eyes instantly shut again... But at least he knew that he was alive. Gracie was by no means amused nor satisfied. Her next gallop caught the man's foot as he fell off of his horse, and the trampling that proceeded was something gruesome and horrific. In a desperate attempt to stop his beloved horse from bucking him off, he hugged the back of her neck until she calmed down a minute later. One brief glimpse below him showed even more of that same crimson life spilled on the grass. Twitching, spasming, flinching, and acceptance. Swords and bows can snap your bones, but a stomping from Gracie can slaughter. The steed slowly turned her attention to her first target. With a terrified whimper, he quickly mounted his steed again and commanded it to ride off as fast as possible. Seeing the carnage that the sweet little workhorse had made of its master's companion, the animal obliged with ease.

"Gracie, y-you just... That was uncalled for. If I had my druthers, I-I'd-a just hit 'em 'till he stopped, but after he was off, ya done got up on 'em and..." the boy muttered with an astonished disbelief. With a nonchalant whinny, the steed finally conceded and allowed the (possibly scarred for life) boy to take a rest. Refusing to look at the mess that was the cavalier or his horse's hooves, he walked over to inspect the weapon that he had dropped. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship: a radiant silver coloring to the polearm blinded him momentarily as it caught the sun's rays. A green piece of cloth was tied close to the sharpened and polished blade at the end of the halberd. Stepping over to the weapon and lifting it out of the ground, he could feel that it was lighter than it appeared to be: no heavier than his pitchfork, in fact. This made it a little bit better: sure, he might be partly responsible for the trampling death of a bandit cavalier, but hey, a shiny new weapon makes things all better in some regard!

Noticing that her small human friend was a bit troubled, Gracie shuffled over and nuzzled her head onto his shoulder. Flinching at first, Reed turned to face the horse. His first instinct was to reach up and pat her muzzle, which he did. Why wasn't he afraid of Gracie after her episode? While the creature did brutally end and defile the man, she supposedly did it to protect not only herself, but the boy who raised her and his family. He could understand why she was so deadset on terminating the threat. "...I know, girl. Holdin' back for my sake is like herdin' cats, so I don't want ya to do that. I-I'll get used to it: promise," Reed apologized with a weary smile. Pleased with the response, Gracie turned and allowed the short cavalier in training to retake his place on the saddle. They had work to do.

[Reed]

The remaining cavaliers were no match for Reed's parents. One of the men had been unlucky enough to meet an arrow to the shoulder: not enough to do what Gracie had done just moments before, but he was in no condition to raise a lance after that blow. The boy took a mental note never to anger his mother excessively lest she snipe him with a thrown spool of thread across the field. The fact that he never knew she was as good of a shot with a bow was astounding. As far as he knew, she was simply a seamstress that was born a Sacaean working woman through and through. Then again, if she was no pushover in a scuffle, that would explain how she met her husband who had traversed dangerous mountains for a living.

"I told you before, and I'll say it again: take the offer and get lost before someone gets killed," his father threatened.

"U-Uh... Pa? It, uh... Might be a lil' late for that, eh heh. Y'see, Gracie got spooked 'n the other guy fell, then she..." the guilty squire admitted as he motioned to Gracie's hooves still coated in the unholy red sin from earlier. Both of his parents gasped as they noticed the red, then glanced over to see what was left of that poor soul. The leader of the original six- now five- stared in bewilderment as his two companions, beaten and bruised from the thrashing at the hands of Reed's father, slowly backed up. Gracie seemed to be basking in the attention. Fitting, really, that she was the only one even remotely happy with this outcome.

"Y-You... Oh, you've done it now! Boys, this place goes up in flames! You hear me?! None of these swine leave with their lives!" he roared in anger as he stamped the end of his lance on the ground. With that signal, all three turned around and rode back the way the came before the two wingmen branched out and began to make a wide arc aimed for the house. The leader turned around and rode right back the way they came. Gracie, noticing the challenge, reared back and let loose another war cry before charging forward. This time, the leader was far enough so that he wasn't as affected by the vicious horse's attempt to frighten him. Reed, meanwhile, was on the verge of wetting his britches from having to take on the head of the bandits. Shouting in unison, the two riders clashed weapons: the fallen cavalier's halberd against the leader's lance. Sparks flew as contact was made, Reed almost being knocked off-balance had it not been for his harness and Gracie's quick dip to catch her master.

"Gah! Rrgh, d-damn it... Gracie, steady! Now, missy!" he cried out with a desperate kick to his horse's side. She miraculously slowed down out of concern for the squire. While no blade met his chest and he didn't end up like the cavalier Gracie made quick work of, he was far from alright. Shaken and trembling, Reed switched the Regal Halberd into his left hand and examined his right. His wrist was sprained from the blow due to incorrect form. Flexing it forward resulted in a sharp pain that made him yelp. His steed, coming to a realization that he was hurt, slowly turned around and hurried to the side as the leader dismounted and drew his attention to Reed's father. His mother noticing the confrontation was going to be uncomfortably close and her having no way to defend herself, slipped under the gap in the fence and hurried back to the house.

"You did this! You damned cowards, I'll kill you all one by one!" the leader shouted with a rage as the lances met. Reed's father was silent. For once, he had nothing left to say in terms of words. If his son's horse had killed the man as it appeared to be, there was no negotiating left. He had to fight so that this man's revenge wouldn't touch his family, though he feared that it would happen.

[Reed]

Unfortunately for Reed, his adrenaline had worn off as he mounted Gracie again and began to check his harness. The Regal Halberd he had been fortunate (or unfortunate when accounting for its acquisition source) to receive felt heavier than it did before. What was once no heavier than his pitchfork turned into a huge weight upon his left arm, prompting him to awkwardly shuffle it into the strap across his back that also held his pitchfork. Eventually something had to give, and the pitchfork would be left back at the farm for good when the halberd was more comfortable for him to use efficiently. "Guess I can call myself lucky I didn't get all tore up from that, eh?" he asked his horse quietly. Gracie simply snorted in response: something the boy had come to interpret as "Be quiet."

From a distance, the cavalier in training could see his father and the leader in a fierce duel. Neither fighter seemed to give much of an opening for the other, and every supposed capitalization was met with a last-minute block and its own retaliation. Reed stared in awe, leaning forward and resting his head on the back of his horse's neck as he observed from a distance. There was something hypnotizing and engaging about watching the fight: a dance with death where two partners stood toe-to-toe, head-to-head in order to avoid having their innards become "outards". Clash, then pause, then clash again. The cycle seemed to go on and on before finally the leader managed to strike a lucky blow to take out his father's left knee and send him into a kneel. As the bandit leader smirked and readied his lance into a dominant position, the squire quickly bolted upright and kicked ad Gracie's side to spurn her forward. If it was too late to act, his father would die right in front of him.

"Hah... Disgusting pigs, the lot of you. You have the nerve to not only refuse our request, but also to take the life of one of my men? I'll sooner have your head at the end of my pike."

500 meters.

"In fact..."

"Gracie, we ain't gonna make it! C'mon, giddy up!"

400 meters.

"I think I will."

"Faster, girl, faster!"

250 meters.

"Now die!"

"No!"

...But the spear never came forward. A thunk of what sounded like a rock against metal could be heard in the immediate area. The lead lancer turned his head slowly to the left and made eye contact with a little girl wielding a wooden bow and arrow. The girl fumbled with the toy, loading another arrow into the string before letting loose and missing by a long shot. The man let out an unimpressed sneer and turned back to the kneeling lancer to kick him to the floor. He then slowly walked over to the girl, gripping his lance tighter.

"You have a lot of nerve, girl, trying to attack me... A shame that the world will miss a feisty little miss like you, really. You wallow with these pigs, and now you go to the slaughter with the lot of them. You're the example of what happens when you attack my men!" he roared in anger. Beth screamed and slowly backed away. At the last second, her eye caught a familiar presence charging behind her attacker at full speed. She dove out of the way to the left and covered her head.

"Stay away from her!!" Reed shouted with a fury matched by his steed's aggression. Elbow bent, tight grip, leaning forward, and eyes on the target: everything that his father had taught him in one solid form had finally come together when he needed it the most. The leader didn't even have the chance to turn around fully before the halberd swing had met his side. The sharpened polearm weapon struck its target and dug deep into his arm, causing an agonizing scream to erupt from him. He fell into the dirt, only hitting the ground once before Gracie's front hoof stomped down and finished the job. The back kick was enough to do it a second time should he have somehow miraculously survived the first.

It was over. Beth had saved her father's life, and for once, Reed had saved Beth's- no, someone else's life in general. Reed remained in his finished jousting pose for a few moments, panting heavily before finally he could hear the sigh of approval from his father. He really had done it.

[Reed]

The next few moments seemed like a blur of action and mumbling that Reed couldn't hear. The sounds of Beth's whimpers as she stood up and hugged his steed (who seemed indifferent to the child's affection, the cruel beast it was during combat), his father's "congratulations", from what he could make out from watching his lips, and his mother's worried whine as she ran to her daughter were all just noise drowned out by the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. The pain of his sprained wrist flared up again, causing him to carefully place the halberd back across his back. The boy swung his leg over the back of his horse, slid off her back, and instantly collapsed from exhaustion. The event was too much for him to take in all at once. The world slowly went black...

-----

"...something for you... ...journey somewhere beyond our... ...calling in this..."

"Urgh... W-What happened? Feels like I got hit by a runaway cart..." the boy groaned as he sat up. He found himself in his bed with a bandage wrapped tightly around his right wrist supported by a makeshift wrist guard made from four sturdy sticks and some rope. His clothes from the battle were hung neatly in the corner, washed thoroughly to remove some of the splatter from Gracie's display and most of the dirt. He preferred not to think about the fact that someone (most likely his worried mother) had dressed him in his pajamas and bound his injury while he was unconscious. The Regal Halberd he had picked up was polished and rested against the wall next to his pitchfork. It gave off the same lustrous gleam it had before, still as imposing as ever. Looking to the right, he came face-to-face with his father who was sitting on a chair shining his boot. The boy jumped in surprise, crying out as he put too much pressure on his wrapped wrist.

"Easy, Riley. Your mother spent a good ten minutes fixing that up for you so you can still hold things. Don't go breaking it so soon," the lancer remarked without looking up from his polishing.

"Ngh... Well, gee, Pa. Don't go 'round scarin' me like that then. Ya said somethin'? Can't hear jack squat when I mashed up my hand 'n it hurts like all get-out," Reed mumbled as he relaxed slightly.

"I was saying that the lance you found is greater than my Horse Slayer could ever be, and that you need to take it and do something greater than stay here your entire life. Your mother wants you here, but that's no lance for a commoner."

The squire felt like he would soon faint again. What was this nonsense that his father was spewing? His family needed him to work the field because he was the only man who knew how Their livelihood depended on him, and now of all times was when they needed him the most. "Pa, I love ya to death 'n back, but ya gotta shut yer yapper 'round Ma sayin' stuff like-"

"I know. I'm telling you that your mother is delusional if she thinks you're staying here your entire life to work these fields," the veteran trader interrupted him son. "The lance you just picked up is a Regal Lance: made from the highest quality metal this side of Sacae has ever seen before. All I know is that one has never been known to break before and it's the strongest weapon to have against any sort of magic. I've never even seen a halberd made out of it before, and I've only fought against one of these weapons twice in my entire career, but the point is that it's yours now. And no wielder of a Regal Lance stays as a simple farmer for their entire life. You're finally off the hook for your responsibilities and you have full freedom to come and go as you please."

"W-What?! But Pa, y'all can't plow the fields like I can! What're ya gonna do then? Plus, I like doin' this stuff! I'm sure Gracie'd love it if we stayed! There's gotta be somethin' ya-"

"Riley, enough. I've heard your excuses and your reasoning, and I stand by what I said. You say these things like I am reluctant for you to go, but the truth is that I want you to leave. You need to see more than just the fields. Gracie is a horse born to do battle, bred to trample anyone that stands in her way and has the intuition of a royal's horse. She'd never want to be confined to this ranch for her entire life: she's still young and has so much to do. And you... Well, you're my son. Keeping you here would not only disrespect the customs of this tribe I joined when I married your mother, but it would also keep you from being all that you could be. You're more than just a simple farmer, Riley Keating. You're a warrior deep down: you just have to grow to realize that. The best way for that is for you to go and learn on your own. I know you have it in you."

"Pa, ya can't just... Rrgh, and what then, huh? I ain't good for nothin' but plowin'."

"You're good enough to stand up to a man ten times your skill level. That's all you need for you to find a way to survive and grow."

[Reed]

As much as Reed wanted to retort, talk back, say anything and everything he felt he ought to after basically being told "get out", he simply bit his tongue and held himself back. Not only was disagreeing with his father never in his favor, but his mother's teachings of respecting his elders kept his potential choice of words from being uttered. "Yesir, Pa..." he grumbled with a stressed sigh. The boy ran his good hand through his curly orange hair as he struggled to grasp the bombshell that had just been dropped. Why was his father saying these things? What would Beth think about this? Most importantly, how the heck did he get Gracie into the stable peacefully when he passed out? "But if ya think I'm just gonna ride up north 'n blend right in with them Ilian mercenaries, I ain't goin' up there just yet. 'S too cold this season."

"Of course not. I don't want you going up there at all right now, actually. You have much to learn before you try and brave Ilia's troubles. Try Lycia before you go up north: the monsters down there will definitely help you grow," his father replied nonchalantly. Reed's face drained from color.

"W-Wait, so ya want me to-"

"Don't think I don't know about you sneaking off with Gracie and a pitchfork to explore the ruins. I had a sneaking suspicion that there had to be something in that damned place. If you came back alive from something like that, you can brave Lycia."

"Pa, I skedaddled outta them ruins before-"

"Before you were killed, good. Sometimes it takes a wiser and greater man to know when he has to fight another day."

"But then the-"

"No excuses. You're going anywhere but Ilia, so you might as well get Lycia out of the way."

The squire opened his mouth to fire back, but hesitated and slowly closed it. His father was known for tough love and high expectations, but he was smart and caring enough not to send him on any suicide jobs. Though baffled as to how he would even hope to keep his sanity in an unrelenting horde of monsters plaguing the country, Reed recognized that his father truly did have as much faith in him as he spoke of. "Pa, yer downright crazy if ya think I'm gonna start mowin' 'em down over in Lycia. But if ya want me to try 'n take a stab at it... Well, I guess all I can do is try. Darn quick to get off the pot 'n tell me this now, though. Not much for the sweet talk either," the boy mumbled in response. While not a passionate yes to the order, the aging lancer smiled in satisfaction regardless knowing that he would get his way after all.

"Good. Of course, Riley, I know you'll miss this place. You can come back whenever you'd like and I'd love to hear all about how my son is doing. But if you want to be like me just like when you were little, you need to set out on your own like me. Find something that will impress me, then tell me all about it just like when I told you those stories. I'll be here as usual: Beth will be learning to tend to the fields, your mother will probably be worried sick until you come back to visit, and I'll wait for the day when I can lose to you when I try," the man finished with an unsettling smile. Reed stared blankly at him. A tall order as it was, it would be a miracle if he could even get half of it right.

"W-Well, when ya put it all that way, I ain't got much of a choice here. Just... Expect me often, yeah? I'm'ma get mighty homesick away from y'all back here in Sacae. I, uh... Need some time to get some shuteye. S-Sorry," the boy apologized to his father, who nodded silently and left the room. All he felt like doing (and did, for that matter) was lay right back down, pull his pillow over his face, and start crying. It felt like he was being kicked out after all he had done, and in the most jarring way possible too. He wanted to be a great warrior one day like the heroes he had heard of in rumors and even in person, much like the Heelcutter that he idolized so much. The young Arkyan just never imagined it would transpire like this. His sobs continued on for a few more minutes before the draw of sleep brought him back under. So much for a happy start to his soon-to-be great journey.

[Reed]

The next few days were stressful and tense for the Keatings. Reed's mother refused to talk to her husband for more than she needed to, Reed was left to teach his younger sister more and more about his techniques in the field without being allowed to lift a tool himself, Gracie was restless from the lack of training for her young master, and life was far from the normal that anyone had known. The only one left oblivious to its cause was Beth: Reed could never bring himself to worrying her until he absolutely had to. He could not bring himself to squat down and look her in the eyes only to say that he would be leaving the day that his wrist healed. Nevertheless, it was unavoidable: the morning finally came where Reed's father had entered his room and inspected his son's wrist.

"Hm. You're healed. Not even a flinch."

"...No I ain't. I-It still hurts," the squire tried to lie with a mumble. The aging lancer shook his head in disapproval and motioned for the boy to rise from his bed. He did so with reluctance, allowing his father to leave so he could get dressed. His clothes. newly mended and ready for his journey, were waiting for him in the corner. His boots were shined, his cape was rethreaded, and most surprisingly, he had completely new pants not too different from the ones he used on the fields. Though he knew his mother was against the idea of him leaving, he appreciated the attention to detail that she gave when providing for her son. As he laced the last lace on his boot, Reed sighed and took one last glance out of his window to the fields. It was here that he grew up, and it was here that he would leave to do so elsewhere. It was only yesterday that he was starting to believe that he could escape his father's judgment, but the morning sun of today had proven him wrong.

Breakfast was quiet except for Beth's obliviously innocent chatter. His mother had chosen to sit next to her eldest today rather than across from him, occasionally glancing over at him from her place of food. Reed, though not hungry at all, did his best to stomach the eggs laid out for him. It was a waste to ignore a prepared plate of food considering that his family was not the richest plot of them all: in fact, most Arkyans lived in some sort of poverty one way or another. The tribe leader had reassured them that money was not necessary in large amounts for happiness, and to a large extent, he was right. But because they provided for their own needs, they could not use more than they had or could borrow and return later.

"So, Reed, whatcha gonna teach me today, huh? I did really good at usin' that plow yesterday!" Beth cheered with a bright smile. The boy felt like he was going to hurl if she asked another question like that.

"...Beth, Reed can't teach you nothing anymore," his mother stepped in to answer. Her husband stayed silent, focusing on his plate of food.

"Huh? He can't? But why? I dunno if I know everythin' 'bout keepin' the crops all-"

"Your brother is going away today after breakfast. Your father wants to send him off to Lycia." Reed knew that she wanted to say more, and desperately so. He could tell she wanted to accuse him of alienating his firstborn, of sending him to die away from those that need and love him, and most of all, of taking them all down with him for leaving the girl in charge. She held her tongue. The lancer remained focused on his food. Beth went silent and began playing with her food. Today would be the first of many quiet meals in the small rural household.

[Reed]

Reed had excused himself soon after finishing his place, stood up from the table, grabbed his new lance from his room, and headed out to the fields. He needed to clear his head from the silent torture of the dining room, from the glares from his mother to his father and from the somber quiet from his shattered little sister. There were so many things that the squire wanted to do (and so much he had yet to find out he wanted to do), and only one thing was clear: he would have been given the chance to do all of that with his family had he not even found the weapon in the first place. Even looking at its polished and sharpened blade made him sick to his stomach. The quality of the metal was the stuff of legend, fit for a noble's masterful hand. The green cloth tied around the end was the only thing that could hint towards a common man's use. Though the Arkyan was never one to care much about his appearance, the shade surprisingly matched his cloak and outfit: it was a common color among this part of the plains. The would-be stains of the bandit raid's fallen were washed off long ago, yet the memory was as crisp as if it were yesterday.

The boy let out a sigh and stowed the lance in the holster upon his back. Then, he pressed his pinky fingers up to the corners of his lips and let out a loud whistle. The thudding of hooves came storming across the field as Gracie rushed to meet her rider. As she slowed to a stop, Reed held out his hand and pressed it softly against her muzzle. The animal closed her eyes and nuzzled into his touch. All it would take is a touch from the boy to receive the support of his horse: aside from her insatiable urge to blast through anything in her path, Gracie was no different from any other loyal steed and understood that her companion was unhappy.


"...Awright, girl. 'S gonna be a lot tougher from here on out, ya hear? We ain't gonna get no ride back here if we wanna go somewhere far like Lycia. I'll be countin' on ya with my life, missy, 'n I wantcha to do the same with me. I-I know I ain't gonna be much help, but if I tell ya somethin', I'm sayin' it for yer own good. Out there? You're all I got, Gracie. I trust ya, do all ya can, but if I reckon we'll be gettin' in a mighty bad lickin', I wantcha to let me steer ya outta harm's way. I-I don't know what I'd do withoutcha..." Reed trailed off. The horse, though likely never destined to be capable of understanding human speech, paced closer as if she had heard the entire speech. The two would stand there, eyes closed and breathing even, for a few moments before the boy would remove his hand, nod to the horse, and saddle her up before climbing onto her back and riding over towards the house again. It was almost time for the final goodbye for a while.