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Chapter 3: Proving yourself

Waking up at a new place always felt disorienting. It had been especially hard on Morgan the first week as he tailed after Sol and his companions on their way to Bolden, always sleeping outside with no fire to keep him warm, not wanting to be discovered. 

This time, his confusion and wariness vanished quickly as he recognized the barracks’ roof. 

He was in Bolden. Safe.

Morgan almost went back to sleep, but it felt like a waste to stop with his training routine now that he had the space and resources to do it properly.

He only crossed with a handful of people on his way to the training yard. It was quite early in the morning, so he wasn’t surprised.

Once there, and after some stretching, he started practicing his swings on a training dummy. Half an hour later, his training got interrupted.

"I didn't think street rats knew how to hold a sword," commented a soldier from Sol’s group, two companions in tow.

While Morgan tried not to judge people based on their appearances, the three soldiers reminded him of the time he got pranked at the orphanage, finding a bunch of bugs in his room.

He never quite liked the little critters since then.

"Anyone can hold a sword, but I doubt he knows how to use it properly," added a second soldier. The man was robust but muscular, like a beetle.

The other two soldiers found Beetle’s words terribly amusing. 

Morgan wondered if they would leave if he just ignored them. The answer was no.

"Don't you know you need to answer when someone speaks to you? Or are you deaf as well, rat?" said the soldier who spoke first. He was almost as tall as Morgan but way too thin, like a stick bug.

Morgan breathed deeply before meeting their gaze with no hesitation, and calmly speaking, "excuse me, did you need anything?" 

They frowned, as if upset because Morgan wasn't bothered by their insults.

"Needing anything from you? As if," Stick said in disbelief.

The third soldier smiled with recognition. Between his smaller height and big expressive eyes, he looked like a big-eyed bug. "I think I recognize him. He was in Linverd." Morgan's eyes widened. "While the local blacksmith tried to sell some trash equipment to the Captain, this peasant was skulking around the place, looking very interested in us... Some spy, maybe?"

"Sorry, but I think you are misunderstanding," Morgan said, this time finding it harder to look at them. But they wouldn't scare him, even if they wanted to accuse him of something ridiculous like that.

Stick approached and sized him up. "You don't look like spy material, too much of a big lump to be of any use. So, I'll assume you are just a nobody wanting to be a knight.” Stick took his silence as acceptance and smiled. ”Yeah. There are a lot of people like you out there, thinking you can become legends like the Captain when even we, nobles, need to work our way up with no certainty of success.”

Morgan didn't reply. There were no satisfactory words he could say to diffuse the situation. Slowly, though, a sense of annoyance and shame started to bubble up inside him. "But hey, if he wants to be one of us, why don't you test him?" Stick turned to his smaller friend.

Big-eyes seemed surprised for a moment, but quickly smirked. "That sounds appropriate. If he wants to learn how to use a sword so much, then I can teach him." He unsheathed his very real sword, totally unlike the wooden one Morgan was holding..

Morgan's gaze focused on Big-eyes, awaiting the incoming attack. He knew it wasn't a bluff; they would truly hurt him if he let them.

Morgan should be scared, but wasn't.

He had felt more worried the previous day, while talking with Naga, because Morgan had not understood her intentions at first. At least, until Morgan spent the afternoon hanging out with Naga and understood she was a nice and sincere person, the type to extend a hand to anyone, and meant everything she said. In a way, she was the kind of person Morgan wanted to be.

In comparison, people in his hometown had always been more difficult. When not outright hostile, they still rarely did anything for others unless they got something in return. And when they didn't want money or labour, they wanted respect... or fear.

Those three soldiers were like that. They wanted Morgan’s fear, and would follow with their threats if necessary. But Morgan was born and raised in Linverd; for good or for wrong, he was used to people like them.

Morgan tightened his hold on his weapon, not caring about his clear disadvantage, ready to block or strike if necessary.

"What do you think you are doing?!"  

Breaking the tense mood, a furious and armed Naga ran into the field and got in the middle, acting as a defensive wall between the soldiers and Morgan. It was both endearing that she was so worried for him and a bit ridiculous considering she was about half his height. "He is a guest, too! You can’t threaten him!"

Big-eyes back-stepped, looking nervous at Naga, while Stick scoffed, but hid it quickly with a smile. "No one is being threatened here. We were just about to start training when this young man requested to spar with my comrade. That's all, isn’t it?" his cold gaze challenged Morgan to deny his words.

And he thought about it. If he declared the man was lying, the situation would escalate, and even with Naga's support, it would be their words against those of three nobles. 

It wouldn’t end well.

"He is saying the truth," Morgan said. Immediately, the fury on Naga's face vanished, leaving her wondering if she had truly misunderstood everything.

"See? There was no violence towards the boy. How rude of you to assume-" As Stick was about to shift some blame onto Naga, Morgan stepped forward, standing in front of her.

"Yes, Naga. I requested a spar, and this gentleman accepted, so could you be our judge?" he asked Naga, but his eyes never left Stick and his friends. Now it was Morgan who dared them to call him a liar. 

Despite their shock and annoyance, they didn't.

"Ah, okay?" Naga nodded, not commenting on the rising tension between them.

Morgan felt bad about partially lying to her, but hoped she would understand.

Knights shouldn't use lies or trickery to get what they want... or at least that's how it should be. But as the three soldiers declared, Morgan was not even remotely close to being a knight, so he should be allowed some mistakes and selfishness at this point, right?

If they wanted to crush him, they could give it a try. But they'd better expect some resistance.

 


 

Sometimes, decisions are made knowing that regret will be the likelier result, because only then can one be true to oneself.

"Are you sure about this?" Naga asked.

"Yes." Morgan nodded, weapon in hand, walking towards Big-eyes. 

They stood in the same open field in which he sparred with Naga the previous day. She observed from a podium as the one who would decide the winner between them. Various guards and soldiers were approaching to observe. 

For better or worse, Sol wasn’t part of the growing public.

While Big-eyes' layered uniform and fuller helmet offered more protection than the vest and simpler helmet Morgan was using, the two of them held wooden swords, so they would go at each other on relatively the same ground.

"You'll regret this," Big-eyes muttered.

Morgan had overstepped greatly and lied to make this fight happen, and there was a big chance the whole thing would end up very badly for him. But now, he had the chance to spar against someone formally trained and striking back in a way that -hopefully- wouldn't cause him too much trouble, so he reached a natural conclusion. "No, I don't think I will."

His words only seemed to rile up his opponent even more, just as Naga yelled, "Well, you know the rules; no hitting in the face or the groin on purpose, and the fight continues until one yields or can't fight anymore. If you are ready, then start!"

Big-eyes went first, his strike quick and precise. And while Morgan blocked it, the same couldn't be said about the next attack, which struck Morgan's side. It was painful, vest or not.

Morgan failed to strike back as Big-eyes stepped away, evading and then connecting a second hit to Morgan's dominant hand, hard enough to disarm him. 

Morgan’s weapon fell a short distance away, startling him by the obvious difference in speed. 

"I told you, you’d regret it." Big-eyes' words snapped Morgan out of his shock. 

As he moved to recover his sword, Morgan got hit on the back, but once the sword was again in his hand, he turned in time to block an attack that came from below.

He didn't expect Big-eyes to use his gauntleted left hand to backhand him in the face.

"Hey!" Naga said, making Big-eyes step away while trying to look sorry. Morgan was more focused on the pain and warm feeling on his face. He touched it, and when he looked at his hand, it was stained red. "You okay, Morgan?"

Blood. 

Morgan had never liked it. He wanted to assume that was normal. It should be inside the body and not outside, after all. So he tried not to think about how much it disturbed him, even knowing it was just the strength of the hit that made his nose bleed, and nothing was cut or broken. "Yes, I'm fine."

Morgan made no effort to clean himself up, knowing the bleeding would continue for some minutes. And if his nonchalance made Big-eyes a big nervous, even better. He wasn't going to be the only one panicking.

And so, Morgan advanced, becoming the first one to attack in this second round; his heavy strike was blocked by Big-eyes, but it made him wince. 

His opponent could be quicker on his feet, but Morgan was stronger.

So, Morgan decided to use Naga's style, which simply consisted of wildly striking fast and hard with no real strategy beyond overwhelming the opponent.

Morgan knew his attacks were clumsy, but he couldn't expect to surpass Big-eyes on technique when the soldier had years of training over him. Doing that while remaining on the defensive had been his mistake before. Now, he would force Big-eyes to keep up with him.

Morgan’s plan was succeeding. 

Even when Big-eyes continued blocking and countering his attacks, it made him nervous to see Morgan shrugging off the damage.

"Just yield, you brute!" Losing his nerves, Big-eyes struck Morgan's head. The helmet kept the attack from hurting him badly, but it still left him slightly dizzy. However, the force made some blood droplets from Morgan’s nose to splash on Big-eyes' face, making him blink, half-blinded for a moment.

Morgan smiled. Not a smirk. Smirking wasn't a thing (future) knights should do. And while Morgan wasn't the brightest, he could still see it: Big-eyes was completely open now.

So, totally not on purpose, Morgan dodged as Big-eyes clumsily attacked, accidentally backhanding the soldier in the small part of his face his helmet left uncovered. A crack resounded as his knuckles connected with Big-eyes' nose, sprawling the soldier on his back, his sword dropping nearby.

Morgan advanced, kicking the fallen weapon away before Big-eyes could get it back, and elevated his sword towards the soldier’s neck. “Do you yield?”

The man looked bloodied and scared. "I yield." 

Morgan felt his body relax as some of the public cheered for his victory.

It was nice and also a bit embarrassing, but he reminded himself: knights were supposed to be gentlemanly. Among many things, that included accepting both defeats and victories with grace, not holding grudges, nor getting big heads.

Morgan smiled sincerely as he lowered his weapon, his equally bloodied face making that a disturbing spectacle. He offered his other hand to the soldier to help him stand up. "Thanks for the spar, I would gladly do this again-" Big-eyes went pale and quickly stood up by himself and walked back to his shocked companions. "Or not." He tried to clean his face as something collided with his back.

"You won!" Naga said, excitedly slapping at his back.

"Y-you are hitting my bruises," he stepped away.

"Is there any part of your body that isn't bruised right now?" She said, intentionally getting closer to poke him, half amused and half worried.

He shrugged. "Fair."

Any attempt at celebration was stopped as Stick approached with Beetle. "Not so fast. You got one of us." He sent a glare at Big-eyes, who stood in the distance, looking ashamed. "There’s still us left. We formally challenge you to a fight."

Morgan didn’t frown; he had expected something similar could happen if he won, and despite his bruises, he was ready to accept. There was still a lot Morgan could learn from those two, and maybe put into practice some of the stuff he had seen Big-eyes doing.

Frankly, he was more worried about Naga, who looked a second away from biting their heads off.

But they were interrupted by a commanding voice. "Stop, right now." The soldiers stiffened when Sol approached with Big-eyes following. "Fighting against a civilian. So shameful for any member of my platoon."

The soldiers lowered their heads, looking scared. Morgan wondered if he should say something. He didn’t want to defend them, but it was partially his fault that the fight occurred. He considered the mix of complicated feelings in his chest; troubled by the problems he was causing, even if it was to people who were cruel to him, and the pride for winning against a more experienced fighter, proving to himself that his dream wasn’t totally hopeless. 

He made a decision.

"Ser Sol," Morgan said, gaining the knight's attention. "I'm sorry for meddling, but this could be a misunderstanding."

"No, it’s not," interrupted Sol. "Because a misunderstanding would imply I care about who and how this began, which I don't." Sol advanced towards Morgan. "Fighting -even if half-seriously- against a mere civilian as a method of 'training' is a total mockery of what it means to be a part of my platoon. And losing against that civilian is even worse." His cold gaze sized him up. Every growing bruise, pained wince, and bloodstain seemed to be captured by his knowing gaze. "But a commoner being indulged in that way. That's just sad." His expression was almost comforting. Almost. "Look at yourself in a mirror and consider how this fight would have gone if you had used real weapons." Morgan's blood ran cold, various images of his bloodied self going through his mind against his wishes. Something in his disturbed expression seemed to answer Sol’s expectations. "Not so proud anymore?" Morgan didn't answer. "Whatever you were attempting, don't waste your life in some useless effort to reach a goal beyond your capacities and lineage... And keep yourself away from my soldiers," he hissed, sounding hostile for the first time in the exchange.

Having made his point, Sol turned around and walked away, his men leaving with him in silence.

"That guy is such a prick! I knew he was terrible! Don't listen to him, Morgan, you are a lot better than all those bastards he keeps around!" Naga attempted to lighten up the situation, but he wasn’t paying attention. "Morgan?"

Morgan didn't answer until Naga poked him. "Sorry, what?"

"That... you are good," she sounded sincere, but also sad, quieter than she had ever been since he met her.

"Thanks?" He awkwardly nodded. "Hey, I think I'll take a walk in the forest."

"Okay?"

The moment Naga took a step after him, he added, "alone, I mean... If you don't mind."

"I do mind." She seemed troubled. "Are you okay?"

Morgan felt like his chest had just been stabbed. "Yes, I'm fine." Which was weird, because rejection had always been something he expected.

Little silly Morgan wanted to be a knight because of a silly childish dream. Let's see him stumble and suffer in his silly endeavor.

That’s probably how most people perceived him and his efforts. And Morgan thought he could endure it... But now one of the people he strived to be like had outright told him to cease his foolishness.

It gave him a sense of finality. That this was it for his dream.

"I need to think for a bit about what I’m going to do now," he explained. The closest to the whole truth he could voice without unloading all his problems onto someone he only knew for a day.

"Okay, then." Naga nodded and watched him go. "Don’t get eaten by the witch."

He looked at Naga and gave her a small smile. "I’ll try."

 


 

Morgan walked and walked.

Eventually, a river met his path, and he decided to follow it. It was half an hour later when the river met a small lake.

Crouching in front of it, Morgan examined his reflection on the water’s surface. The bruises on his face didn't make a nice image, and they would only look worse after a while.

"It hurts." He didn't mean his face, this time.

Feeling miserable and lost, he covered his face with his hands and waited, almost wanting to be swallowed by the ground and disappear.

The sound of loud steps nearby made him look up, discovering one of the biggest animals he had ever seen, standing just by the other side of the lake.

It was a deer. A male, considering the prominent antlers, and bigger than it seemed natural, a layer of what looked like moss covering parts of its coat, which only made the beast look more impressive, as if it had somehow popped up from the greenery.

The deer's eyes were on him. But Morgan couldn’t notice any sign of tension or fear, just curiosity. And he felt quite the same. Animal and man looked at each other, a weird sense of peace growing between them.

Distracted as he was, Morgan failed to notice a second person entering the clearing.

It would have been quite difficult, anyway, as this time no sounds were made as the person approached.

He only noticed the new presence when a strong iron-like smell reached his nose, making him hesitate about turning around. 

And by then, this person was already behind him.

erintesden

Author's Note

What did you think about the fight scene? I had initially intended to make Morgan fight the 3 soldiers, but it felt like it would make everything TOO damn long, and the idea was to make Morgan look like someone strong but inexperienced at combat. Having him fight and win against 3 dudes in a row would break that.

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