Chapter 1[]
Ari leaned against the wooden desk, the candles in the dull-lit room flickered, the flame burning the wax beneath. The top of the wax tapered as it melted, producing a pleasant smell, mixing with the lavender her friend, Arran, kept nearby. His face was buried deep into his book and she looked over the cover. Desdemona; The Tale of the Heron. Ari rolled her eyes back and thought that it was such a weird title. She wondered why he would lodge himself up in this stuffy place, each corner and small little crack in the wall stuffed with books. She didn’t know why he read so much when he could be contributing to the village, farm, and train as a knight like she was! Or even talk to the others at the very least!
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” She huffed. Her black hair fell into her face, covering her right eye. Arran glanced up from his book, his gaze locking with hers through his square glasses, the tiny bit of sunlight that showed through his curtains hitting the lenses in such a way that it blinded her and she looked away with a hiss.
“Yes.” He bluntly said, his voice monotone and his expression matching. He looked back down to his book; tiny words shyly and quietly tumbled out of his lips as he read to himself.
Ari narrowed her eyes, inspecting her friend’s body language. “Doesn’t really seem like it.” Arran looked up, peering out from his glasses and she nervously chuckled. “I’m joking.” She added last minute, a twinge of fear in her voice. As he went back to reading, Ari tapped at his arm. “Hey, Arran?”
“Yes?” He said once again, his expression emotionless as he responded to his name.
“Are you still mad about me training to become a knight?” At her question, Arran finally looked up, his look strong and his shoulders tense and Ari couldn’t tell if he was angry or had finally brushed it off. Finally, he adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath.
“When you die, I’ll take care of your stuff.”
“Ugh, Arran!” Ari groaned, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to die!”
“You don’t know that!” Arran snapped, slamming his book down onto the old wooden desk, making her flinch. He tensed and fixated on her body language, a slight worry etched across her face. He sighed and sat back down. “Listen… Ari… I’m just worried-“
She shook her head. “It’s…” There was a pause. “It’s fine.” Another pause and Ari felt his eyes look over her in a mix of fear, anger, guilt; she didn’t meet his gaze until she was sure the sunlight hit his glasses where the lenses turned white and she wouldn’t have to see his eyes. “I’ve learned a lot, Arran. You don’t have to worry about me.” She thought for a moment and continued. “In all honesty, I’m more worried about you.”
He shook his head. “What are you talking about, I haven’t been acting differently or hiding anything or getting defensive or ignoring you!” His tone held a bit more anger and annoyance than Ari was used to.
She winced. “I mean, you’re getting pretty defensive right now. Besides, you weren’t even listening to me earlier.”
“I told you I was.” He grunted through gritted teeth.
“Well still, you sure didn’t seem like it-” She sighed and shook her head, her black hair falling in front of her shoulders. She adjusted the sleeves of her maroon dress. “Arran, I have to get going, I need to train. Jersey’s been waiting long enough for me at the guard tower. It was… It was nice talking to you, I’ll see you soon.” Ari pulled up the end of her dress skirt a bit as she stood up from the stool she was seated on. Arran watched as she left, the fabric swaying behind her and let out a soft huff. He daintily picked up his book and walked over to his bookshelf, tucking the novel in the tight space it once resided. He took out his journal and went back to his desk to sit down.
“She doesn’t know anything…” His grip tightened on his journal until his knuckles turned white and then suddenly let go. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his bow-tie and dipped his quill into the black sticky ink and began to write.
And write and write and write and write…
Ari shuffled into the guard tower and was already untying her corset as she ran up the stone steps. She panted as she flopped down onto her knees and began to grab her arming doublet. She put on her armor afterwards and awkwardly stood up, grabbing her sword and starting to make her way outside. She put her hand up to her forehead and eyes, blocking the sun from blinding her and saw Jersey hitting a dummy. The sound of her steps approaching alerted him and he whipped around quickly.
“You’re late,” He snickered, drawing his sword and the two circled each other. “Very late.”
“I know, I know, I was visiting Arran.” She drew her sword and the two fell in a stance. Staring dead at Jersey, Ari narrowed her eyes, the knight calculating his every move, every breath, every little twitch of his body, bracing for him to attack, everything that her brain could think of.
Jersey and her met blades, the sound of the swords clanging together making such a horrible sound. “Ts’ alrigh.” He retreated. “At least you made it.” The two began training in the courtyard, chopping up dead bushes for fun between breaks.
On the Sunday of that week, Ari put on her best gown and went to Arran’s house. Unfriendly and unwelcoming just as she expected and she knocked. And when there was no answer, she knocked again until there was another silence so she made sure to knock extra loud, perhaps he was asleep. But still no answer. She checked the doorknob and for sure, it was locked. Maybe he had gone somewhere but why would he leave without telling her? His only friend. Ari bit her lip. Something was up with Arran for sure so she decided to leave and come back on Tuesday. Only for him to be gone still then too. And the next. And the next. And all the way around the week until he magically seemed to return on the next Sunday. He opened the door this time and he stared at her angrily with bags under his eyes. Not even wearing his glasses.
“Where are your glasses?” She murmured, fidgeting with her sleeve.
“Does it matter?” He looked rather sulky. More than usual. “Shouldn’t you be training?”
Ari shook her head. “It’s Sunday, me and Jersey don’t train on Sundays.” She twirled around, her skirt lifting up slightly. “Do you like my dress?” Her smile was genuine as she looked up at her friend.
“Yeah, yeah.” He began to close the door, his hand sliding down to the doorknob. “I have to go.” Ari’s eyes showed a bit of sadness and for a moment, he kept the door open.
“This is the first time I’m seeing you in a week and you’re leaving?!” She whines.
“I’ll see you later, Ari.” He closed the door.
Ari stood there, her hands at her side, balled up into fists as she held onto the loose ends of her sleeves. She pulled up her bodice and decided to just leave. She trudged back home, worry eating and nipping at her and she felt as if a rabid dog snapped its jaws shut on the hem of her dress, slowing her down. She wandered into the forest surrounding Sparrowyield, the village was rather small so she had gone into the forest before out of boredom or she saw something that had caught her eye. This time around was because of the former. Ari seated herself in a patch of grass with dandelions. Suddenly, something wet pressed against her hand and she turned her head to see a small dog with slightly longer legs than usual. It’s wet nose sniffed at her head before it moved on to sniffing at the dandelions. It had a wire coat, brown fur with no spots or markings at all and a stiff little tail that wagged highly in the air like a flag waving in the wind after a victorious battle. “What are you doing?” Ari sighed, still feeling sad about Arran. The dog yapped and yapped and yapped. “Calm down!” She shrieked, putting a finger to her mouth but the dog tugged on her dress. “Stop it.” So the dog moved to tugging on the dandelions. “I’m going to name you Tug. Come on, Tug.” She sat up and gathered some of the dandelions and started her way back towards Sparrowyield and Tug followed, her tail wagging violently.
She led the small terrier to Sparrowyield and headed to Jersey’s house. “Jersey. Jersey!” She knocked. He answered the door quicker than Arran did, Ari thought as Tug jumped to reach the dandelions she held against her chest and failed pathetically.
“Ari? Dog?” Jersey’s eyes widened.
“I found a dog!” She exclaimed.
“Well, I can see that. What is its name?”
“Tug and it’s a girl.”
“That’s a very weird girl name. In fact, it’s a weird name overall but I guess it fits.”
It was Monday now and Ari and Jersey were back to training, having left Tug tied up in her leather collar at a tree nearby. The two sparred at the edge of Sparrowyield, their swords hitting each other with that bastardly sound Ari hated. She panted as she dodged an attack but Jersey was quick and quickly recovered before she could and stabbed at her with his sword. She shrieked when she was hit but her armor saved her. Thankfully. “Do I win?” He snickered and she let out a groan but then laughed along with him.
Tug started barking all of a sudden and choked herself on her collar as she stood on her hind legs, pulling forward, tugging forward, pulling the collar tight against her neck. Ari hurried to her and unleashed her and she bounded forward. “Huh? What the heck is she going at-” Ari murmured but was cut off by a scream. Without even a glance at each other, the two knights of Sparrowyield hurried towards the sound.
They skidded to a halt, finding Tug on a man’s chest, who was on the floor. He wore rich clothing, his outerwear jacket having been dyed an indigo blue, which was a very expensive dye around this region. Ari’s only seen indigo once when a merchant came to Sparrowyield in her childhood and had decided the town was too poor to even buy anything and left. She also noted he was rather round so he must be rich. The man screamed as the terrier continued barking.
“Tug! Heel!” Ari snapped and so Tug heeled. “Who are you and why are you here?” She turned her attention to the man. Jersey drew his sword just in case he attacked.
“Get that rabid dog out of here!” The man gripped his chest and his breath was heavy. “Border terriers are useless rabid animals-”
“Shut up and tell us who you are or by Sparrowfield law, we are required to slit your throat.” Jersey bluffed. The man’s eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.
He cleared his throat eventually and stood up, speaking in a way that allowed Ari and Jersey to know he was still shaken up. “Jay Allard, royal messenger from Calliare. I need to speak to your lord. Now.”