Soot-Steeped Knight (LN)
My days as Emilie’s swain were now in full swing.
I would leave bed before the first light of day, and with sword in hand, make my way to the rear of the headquarters building. There, I would commit myself to some training before the day’s duties begin in earnest, as they occupied much of my daytime hours. Loath was I to make use of the training grounds, for those that would take umbrage to that very notion were not few in number.
Vertical swings, downward, upward. Horizontal swings, leftward, rightward. Diagonal slashes. Leaping cleaves. With each swing of the heavy iron sword, I would further refine the arc of its travel.
The other officers tended not to trouble themselves with these sorts of drills. For my part, I felt it of special import to assimilate these techniques as much as I could, thus I’ve committed to this training unfailingly since my earliest days.
The sun would peek above the horizon to find both beads of sweat dotted all about my body and my arms weary of raising themselves any further. With the new dawn’s light signalling the end of morning practice, I would wash up by the well before proceeding to the stables.
There, I would groom Emilie’s horse and prepare its breakfast of grasses and other ruffage. Afterwards, a walk round the equine corral is in order, and as well as a cleanup of the horse’s stall. With that job done, it came time to finally head to Emilie’s chamber. Punctuality is paramount: I would stand ready there by her doorstep on the hour of her awakening.
“A good morrow to you, Lady Emilie,” I greeted as she opened the door.
“Oh, g-good morning, Rolf,” Emilie stumbled. “Right… here, if you may.” She held out a sheathed sword—a spare, different from the one slung at her hip.
“As you wish.” Carrying it was the duty of a swain, which I obliged.
From there, Emilie’s own daily commitments would commence, with me ever at her side, whether it be behind her during meetings, or standbying at the fringes of the training grounds during her practice sessions. In times when she was out on horseback, it would be my charge to pull the mount afoot.
“S-say, Rolf! You’ve been on your feet all this while. How does a breather sound?” Emilie suggested from atop her horse. “One in the shade under the trees yonder, perhaps…”
“My feet are yet sound, my Lady,” I declined. “Our docket dictates that we should finish inspecting the western war-front by no later than nightfall, after which we are to return to base. If taking respite is not itself an order, then I should like to continue on as we are.”
“All… all right. Let’s keep at it, then…”
Handling documents also counted amongst Emilie’s duties. Here, too, at her desk in her chamber, I would standby at her side. As she was a freshly knighted officer, her workload was purposefully light, with filing simple reports comprising the brunt. However, the other side of the proverbial coin has her minted as an executive officer, and thus did she busy herself in browsing through papers related to sundry aspects of the Order’s administration.
It seemed much of what was written therein would escape her comprehension, if her peppering of quizzical questions was aught to go by. In response, I would offer both explanations as needed and insight on how best to approach various subjects.
“For this particular case, the mareschal must be informed that budgetary documents are to be sent back to the commissariat, whereupon discrepancies in the listed values are to be corrected,” I elaborated.
“But from what I could tell, didn’t the previous budget have the same discrepancies, just about?” questioned Emilie.
“The Order is currently in the midst of settling its accounts; it won’t do to go about it this time as we did last, lest we risk affecting the draft proposals to be sent to Central.”
“Uh… mm… so, in other words…?”
Emilie was in the habit of making troubled faces and fretting about aught she couldn’t wrap her head around. But a dose of digestible explanations, patiently administered, was all it took for her to figure it out in the end.
Taking care of Emilie’s equipment was also one of my duties. Her sword needed sharpening only once in a while. Her armour, on the other hand, proved the greater nuisance. As needs demanded, I would repair any dents along the plates, reupholster the leather, or apply oil to the entire set.
“R-Rolf, the parts around the belt end up scuffing themselves rather quickly,” Emilie observed. “It must be tiring, replacing them so often. I won’t pay any mind if you ease up on their care.”
“I’m afraid that will not do, Lady Emilie. Armour must be kept in the best possible condition at all times. Your life may depend on it.”
“I… I suppose you’re right.”
When the day’s duties were done with, I would request permission from Emilie to receive her the next day upon her awakening, as per usual. No paperwork was involved—mere verbal permission sufficed. Nonetheless, this step was indispensable if I was to do my job properly. And for good reason: her chamber was housed within the main building’s third floor. It was there that the leadership resided, a place forbidden to any lower officer who had not the requisite allowance. As Emilie’s swain, asking for permission ahead of the next day’s duties was in itself a part of the routine.
“May I receive you at the same time on the morrow, my Lady?”
“Yeah… I don’t mind…”
It was during these moments, upon giving me permission, that her eyes were always downturned.
♰
The day was finally over. Tasks fulfilled and with sword in hand, I headed to the rear of the headquarters building. One more training session, just like the morning’s.
“Hah…! Hah…! Hah…!”
Arcs of swung iron glinted under the moonlight, one after the other, over and over, on and on—movements I’ve repeated since childhood. By now, they must’ve totalled in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, each executed with the whole of my being.
Out of a thousand swings unbalanced by uncertainty, ten would be steeled with surety. From those precious ten come a thousand more, each as adamant.
With my heart set along the blade up to its very tip, I continued cutting at the air. The sword arc would meander upon the slightest distraction that threatened to steal my thoughts. When such faults arose, I would start over right from the beginning.
In my mind, a moon mirrored within the water’s surface—through the reflection, my sword sailed, disturbing the waters not in the slightest.
Once again, under a tree amongst flurries of falling leaves—through the trunk, my sword sliced, touching not a single leaf.
Yet again, within a vociferous storm—through the gales, my sword sang, deafening the wind-howls.
“Rolf,” came a voice behind me. The sound of approaching footsteps reached my ears—it was Emilie. “Do you always train here? All on your own?” she asked.
“I see…” Silence settled between us for a while until Emilie spoke again. “Y-you know, Rolf! The mareschal praised me again! ‘Another well-writ report,’ he said!”
“Is that so?”
“And just the other day, I pointed out a problem in the operations protocol,” she continued. “‘Quite the eagle-eyed tactician,’ I was told!”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Emilie fell quiet again, her eyes turning down until their long lashes almost met. Another wordless moment grew between us.
“…‘Twas all thanks to you, Rolf,” Emilie started again. “I made sure the mareschal knew of this, but he… he wouldn’t have any of it.”
“A fool’s errand, Lady Emilie. You only risk imperilling your own position.”
“Still! ‘Tis by your counsel that I accomplish the things I do. Even though you’re the one truly deserving of the merit… ever and always.”
“By rights, a dame shares in the merits of her swain,” I reiterated. “I merely gave my thoughts, nothing more—the one to put them to practice was you, Lady Emilie.”
Once more, she fell silent and hung her head sullenly. After a moment, she seemed to muster up some courage for her next words.
“‘Lady Emilie’…” she said softly. “You call me that, even now.”
“As I must.”
“Must you really? When it’s just the two of us…? ‘Twould ease my heart if we can share warmer words like we used to.”
“The walls may have ears, I fear.”
“I know… I know that, but…”
Sorrow veiled Emilie’s face—an expression I’ve witnessed more times than I fain to admit ever since we’ve joined the Order. And I was the cause of it all. Emilie, once my fiancée, whom I once gave the promise of happiness—a promise now paid instead with sadness, from whose purse but my own.
“Rolf… The other swains don’t address their knights with such ceremony. Why is it only you that must do this…?”
“The Order compels me so.”
“Compels you so…? We’re not in want of stablehands, yet you’re made to groom my horse! We’re in no battlefield, yet you’re always burdened with my spare sword! Why is that!? None of it makes sense! Does it sit well with you, Rolf!? Surely it can’t…!”
Emilie’s eyes, lovely as they were, issued tears one after the other. Beneath the moonbeams, they brimmed blue. I came up close to her, and with a hand placed upon her cheek, wiped her tears away. Her azure gaze was wide as I stared resolutely into them.
“Emilie. It doesn’t—not in the slightest. I am bitter of it all, as well. And more than aught, I could not bear to make you cry.”
“Rolf…”
“I’m sorry, Emilie. Truly. I’ve troubled you to no end, whether by our broken betrothal or the daily hardships of our new lives here.”
“That’s not… I…”
“But you must know: there’s nothing left for me, not anymore. Naught, save a dream of knighthood.”
Without averting my eyes from her, I quietly, yet resolutely continued on.
“Emilie. No place would dare suffer an ungraced man. I can do little else but stay here and endure, on and on, till trial’s end someday far away, when I’m made a knight—just like I’ve always dreamed. And when that day comes, I’ll be vindicated at last; this, I believe. These are selfish words, I know—to you, words empty of solace, but full only of sorrow. Yet as it is, I can do nothing else.”
“Rolf…”
“Emilie… I’m sorry.”
Upon my apology, she rubbed her face with the backs of her hands, and then looked up to me.
“No… I’m sorry, too, Rolf. After all, you’re…”
Yet, those eyes, once freed of tears, now flowed with them once more.
“…You’re… you’re the one… who’s been suffering the most…”
Emilie wept.
Through the moonlit emptiness, her cries echoed—a sound that wounded me more deeply than any abuse from my superiors ever had.
Was a man ungraced incapable even of bringing a smile to a girl’s lips?
I searched up to the benighted sky, haunted by a hounding feeling that has shadowed me ever since my arrival at the Order: how I resented myself for being so callow.
Chapter 9: Volume 1 - CH 2.4
I would leave bed before the first light of day, and with sword in hand, make my way to the rear of the headquarters building. There, I would commit myself to some training before the day’s duties begin in earnest, as they occupied much of my daytime hours. Loath was I to make use of the training grounds, for those that would take umbrage to that very notion were not few in number.
Vertical swings, downward, upward. Horizontal swings, leftward, rightward. Diagonal slashes. Leaping cleaves. With each swing of the heavy iron sword, I would further refine the arc of its travel.
The other officers tended not to trouble themselves with these sorts of drills. For my part, I felt it of special import to assimilate these techniques as much as I could, thus I’ve committed to this training unfailingly since my earliest days.
The sun would peek above the horizon to find both beads of sweat dotted all about my body and my arms weary of raising themselves any further. With the new dawn’s light signalling the end of morning practice, I would wash up by the well before proceeding to the stables.
There, I would groom Emilie’s horse and prepare its breakfast of grasses and other ruffage. Afterwards, a walk round the equine corral is in order, and as well as a cleanup of the horse’s stall. With that job done, it came time to finally head to Emilie’s chamber. Punctuality is paramount: I would stand ready there by her doorstep on the hour of her awakening.
“A good morrow to you, Lady Emilie,” I greeted as she opened the door.
“Oh, g-good morning, Rolf,” Emilie stumbled. “Right… here, if you may.” She held out a sheathed sword—a spare, different from the one slung at her hip.
“As you wish.” Carrying it was the duty of a swain, which I obliged.
From there, Emilie’s own daily commitments would commence, with me ever at her side, whether it be behind her during meetings, or standbying at the fringes of the training grounds during her practice sessions. In times when she was out on horseback, it would be my charge to pull the mount afoot.
“S-say, Rolf! You’ve been on your feet all this while. How does a breather sound?” Emilie suggested from atop her horse. “One in the shade under the trees yonder, perhaps…”
“My feet are yet sound, my Lady,” I declined. “Our docket dictates that we should finish inspecting the western war-front by no later than nightfall, after which we are to return to base. If taking respite is not itself an order, then I should like to continue on as we are.”
“All… all right. Let’s keep at it, then…”
Handling documents also counted amongst Emilie’s duties. Here, too, at her desk in her chamber, I would standby at her side. As she was a freshly knighted officer, her workload was purposefully light, with filing simple reports comprising the brunt. However, the other side of the proverbial coin has her minted as an executive officer, and thus did she busy herself in browsing through papers related to sundry aspects of the Order’s administration.
It seemed much of what was written therein would escape her comprehension, if her peppering of quizzical questions was aught to go by. In response, I would offer both explanations as needed and insight on how best to approach various subjects.
“For this particular case, the mareschal must be informed that budgetary documents are to be sent back to the commissariat, whereupon discrepancies in the listed values are to be corrected,” I elaborated.
“But from what I could tell, didn’t the previous budget have the same discrepancies, just about?” questioned Emilie.
“The Order is currently in the midst of settling its accounts; it won’t do to go about it this time as we did last, lest we risk affecting the draft proposals to be sent to Central.”
“Uh… mm… so, in other words…?”
Emilie was in the habit of making troubled faces and fretting about aught she couldn’t wrap her head around. But a dose of digestible explanations, patiently administered, was all it took for her to figure it out in the end.
“R-Rolf, the parts around the belt end up scuffing themselves rather quickly,” Emilie observed. “It must be tiring, replacing them so often. I won’t pay any mind if you ease up on their care.”
“I’m afraid that will not do, Lady Emilie. Armour must be kept in the best possible condition at all times. Your life may depend on it.”
“I… I suppose you’re right.”
When the day’s duties were done with, I would request permission from Emilie to receive her the next day upon her awakening, as per usual. No paperwork was involved—mere verbal permission sufficed. Nonetheless, this step was indispensable if I was to do my job properly. And for good reason: her chamber was housed within the main building’s third floor. It was there that the leadership resided, a place forbidden to any lower officer who had not the requisite allowance. As Emilie’s swain, asking for permission ahead of the next day’s duties was in itself a part of the routine.
“May I receive you at the same time on the morrow, my Lady?”
“Yeah… I don’t mind…”
It was during these moments, upon giving me permission, that her eyes were always downturned.
♰
The day was finally over. Tasks fulfilled and with sword in hand, I headed to the rear of the headquarters building. One more training session, just like the morning’s.
“Hah…! Hah…! Hah…!”
Arcs of swung iron glinted under the moonlight, one after the other, over and over, on and on—movements I’ve repeated since childhood. By now, they must’ve totalled in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, each executed with the whole of my being.
Out of a thousand swings unbalanced by uncertainty, ten would be steeled with surety. From those precious ten come a thousand more, each as adamant.
With my heart set along the blade up to its very tip, I continued cutting at the air. The sword arc would meander upon the slightest distraction that threatened to steal my thoughts. When such faults arose, I would start over right from the beginning.
In my mind, a moon mirrored within the water’s surface—through the reflection, my sword sailed, disturbing the waters not in the slightest.
Once again, under a tree amongst flurries of falling leaves—through the trunk, my sword sliced, touching not a single leaf.
Yet again, within a vociferous storm—through the gales, my sword sang, deafening the wind-howls.
“Rolf,” came a voice behind me. The sound of approaching footsteps reached my ears—it was Emilie. “Do you always train here? All on your own?” she asked.
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“I do, my Lady.”“I see…” Silence settled between us for a while until Emilie spoke again. “Y-you know, Rolf! The mareschal praised me again! ‘Another well-writ report,’ he said!”
“And just the other day, I pointed out a problem in the operations protocol,” she continued. “‘Quite the eagle-eyed tactician,’ I was told!”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Emilie fell quiet again, her eyes turning down until their long lashes almost met. Another wordless moment grew between us.
“…‘Twas all thanks to you, Rolf,” Emilie started again. “I made sure the mareschal knew of this, but he… he wouldn’t have any of it.”
“A fool’s errand, Lady Emilie. You only risk imperilling your own position.”
“Still! ‘Tis by your counsel that I accomplish the things I do. Even though you’re the one truly deserving of the merit… ever and always.”
“By rights, a dame shares in the merits of her swain,” I reiterated. “I merely gave my thoughts, nothing more—the one to put them to practice was you, Lady Emilie.”
Once more, she fell silent and hung her head sullenly. After a moment, she seemed to muster up some courage for her next words.
“‘Lady Emilie’…” she said softly. “You call me that, even now.”
“As I must.”
“Must you really? When it’s just the two of us…? ‘Twould ease my heart if we can share warmer words like we used to.”
“The walls may have ears, I fear.”
“I know… I know that, but…”
Sorrow veiled Emilie’s face—an expression I’ve witnessed more times than I fain to admit ever since we’ve joined the Order. And I was the cause of it all. Emilie, once my fiancée, whom I once gave the promise of happiness—a promise now paid instead with sadness, from whose purse but my own.
“Rolf… The other swains don’t address their knights with such ceremony. Why is it only you that must do this…?”
“The Order compels me so.”
“Compels you so…? We’re not in want of stablehands, yet you’re made to groom my horse! We’re in no battlefield, yet you’re always burdened with my spare sword! Why is that!? None of it makes sense! Does it sit well with you, Rolf!? Surely it can’t…!”
Emilie’s eyes, lovely as they were, issued tears one after the other. Beneath the moonbeams, they brimmed blue. I came up close to her, and with a hand placed upon her cheek, wiped her tears away. Her azure gaze was wide as I stared resolutely into them.
“Emilie. It doesn’t—not in the slightest. I am bitter of it all, as well. And more than aught, I could not bear to make you cry.”
“I’m sorry, Emilie. Truly. I’ve troubled you to no end, whether by our broken betrothal or the daily hardships of our new lives here.”
“That’s not… I…”
“But you must know: there’s nothing left for me, not anymore. Naught, save a dream of knighthood.”
Without averting my eyes from her, I quietly, yet resolutely continued on.
“Emilie. No place would dare suffer an ungraced man. I can do little else but stay here and endure, on and on, till trial’s end someday far away, when I’m made a knight—just like I’ve always dreamed. And when that day comes, I’ll be vindicated at last; this, I believe. These are selfish words, I know—to you, words empty of solace, but full only of sorrow. Yet as it is, I can do nothing else.”
“Rolf…”
“Emilie… I’m sorry.”
Upon my apology, she rubbed her face with the backs of her hands, and then looked up to me.
“No… I’m sorry, too, Rolf. After all, you’re…”
Yet, those eyes, once freed of tears, now flowed with them once more.
“…You’re… you’re the one… who’s been suffering the most…”
Emilie wept.
Through the moonlit emptiness, her cries echoed—a sound that wounded me more deeply than any abuse from my superiors ever had.
Was a man ungraced incapable even of bringing a smile to a girl’s lips?
I searched up to the benighted sky, haunted by a hounding feeling that has shadowed me ever since my arrival at the Order: how I resented myself for being so callow.
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