CHAPTER 21: "The Weak or the Strong"

ARI

Ari had not spoken much to Prince Richard on the long ride back to Nightingshire. She was trying her best to hide her distrust for him. He constantly looked for conversation, but Ari shook him off as much she could without being obvious.

How much does he know? She wondered. Does he know what his father has done? She did not want to believe that the boy she loved would stand for such atrocious behavior on his father's part, but Gerard was his father. She did not think she could risk it to be close to Richard, even though the feelings between the two of them were growing more and more apparent every day. His glances were too long and warm to mean nothing.

When they finally arrived back home in Nightingshire, much was the same. The air in the library during their studies was dry, their laughs were short. They were growing distant, and Ari knew it was her fault.

Ari wanted to seek the comforts of Bard and Barnacle, but both were hard to contact. She stopped by the stables, the grazing fields, Bard's camp, anywhere she could think to look for one or both of them, but with no luck.

She was left with an awkward few days with the Prince.

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Ari was asked to accompany Prince Richard to his combat training with Sir Galen, a request that made her nervous. Sir Galen did not have the most inviting demeanor.

Ari headed out to the practice field. Heavy downpour soaked the kingdom, so the usual practice field was substituted with a small cellar in the South end of the castle. Ari entered the cellar to find Sir Galen and Prince Richard already swinging at each other with heavy, wooden practice swords. Sir Galen stopped when she walked in.

"Jason," he said. "You are late."

Prince Richard smiled at her. She broke eye contact and said, "I am sorry... Sir Galen."

Ari rushed over to pick up a practice sword from the rack.

"Don a vest as well, boy," Galen instructed, and Ari picked up a small, metal breastplate from a hook above the sword rack. She put it awkwardly over her head, and naturally, the shoulders were a little disproportionate on her.

"Raise your sword, boy," Sir Galen commanded her. He turned to the Prince and said, "And you."

"Pardon?" the Prince asked.

Sir Galen raised a hand to him and one to Ari, saying, "Strike. Let's see what Sir Oliver has taught you."

Prince Richard shrugged, saying, "I shan't strike too hard, Jason. I know you're not as trained as I."

Something about this remark rubbed Ari wrong. It hurt, not in the way that Dayne's remark had angered her, but worse because it was Richard. This slight, coupled with her doubt in the Prince, urged her to take the first lunge.

Prince Richard was not exactly ready for it, but managed to meet her blow with a block that made contact near his face. "Jason!" he yelled in surprise.

Ari pulled back, sword pointed down at him. "Strike," she said. "Strike hard."

The Prince did strike, but weakly. He was holding back. Ari swatted it away with ease. She wanted to anger him, so gave him a whack in the shins to get his attention.

"Gods!" the Prince grunted. Now, he was angry too. He came at Ari again, this time, not holding back. His lunge was fierce, with more muscle than Ari thought the Prince could have. The wooden blades smacked together a few more times before they broke the embrace. Richard shook his hand around to release some of the tension building there.

Ari, taking advantage of his weakness came at him quick. The Prince gripped his stick with two hands, but it was clear that he was only a few blows away from giving.

"I yield," he said. Ari swung one more time.

"Finish your enemy," Sir Galen coached.

Ari swung again, with the Prince yelling now. "I yield!" he cried.

It mattered not, because Ari's next strike sent the Prince's wooden sword flying from his hands to the wall where it bounced with a plunk. Ari smacked him one more time in the arse for good measure.

"Jason!" the Prince screamed this time.

Ari stopped, realizing she had lost control again, only this time, towards someone she loved.

"... I... my prince..." she pled.

"Back to the Hell where you came from," he cursed at her, and stormed out of the practice room.

Ari almost walked after him when Sir Galen said, "No. Let him walk. Let him think."

He pulled out a stool from the corner of the room and placed in front of him. He grabbed another stool and fell onto it. "Sit," he commanded.

SIR GALEN

Finally, Sir Galen had a moment alone with the girl who was a boy. She looked intimidated, scared and, of course, guilty. She was glossy-eyed, fighting tears.

"You let your conscious weigh on you too heavily, Jason," he told her.

She looked at him, a little intimidated, saying, "I hurt him."

"He walked. He will live."

The girl had a look of utter disgust, confessing, "I still hurt him. He did not deserve it."

"You were the better swordsman," Sir Galen told her, sighing. He needed to get her away from the Prince if he was going to kill him. "Has Sir Oliver taught you nothing about being a knight? Has anyone here in Nightingshire told you of how I came to be a captain of the guard?"

"I do not ask questions about those whom I care little about," the girl responded. She was cold, an attitude that Sir Galen truly admired.

"I come from nothing, like you, from a tiny fishing town on the banks of the Fruitful Vine. My father was a merchant, sold bread to the men there. My father was weak. Often times, when he sold bread to the fisherman, a pack of them robbed him. Several robbed him on regular occasion.

"I remember one was named Gregory. Big, tall, broad shoulders, fat neck. A pig. Gregory beat my father long after the others, kicked him in the chest long after he yielded. Crying, 'yield,' does nothing. Begging does nothing. But, as a boy, I begged my father often. I begged him to kill Gregory. When we had to eat the rats that we trapped because we did not have even enough coin to buy the land we owned, I begged my father to be strong.

"He did nothing when bread did not feed us. He did not change. He did not become something stronger. But I knew, even then, that my father was wrong, that loved ones can be wrong, and sometimes, they must be hurt if they are to learn."

The girl was scared, uncomfortable. She clearly wished she had followed Prince Richard out of the cellar.

Sir Galen finished his tale. "I killed Gregory. I was a mere boy. I walked to his tent while he slept. He snored, oinking like the fat boar he was. I vanquished him, a stake in the neck. His throat made an odd, bubbling sound as the blood stained his sheets. I watched him die. I stayed all the while."

"You are a killer," the girl told him.

"Aye, but as are you, Jason," Sir Galen told her. "It will not be long before you have to be strong. You might cannot let weakness stop you from doing your duty. The Prince... he will not last in this world. It is unforgiving, cruel to the weak. It was cruel to my father. It was cruel to me, until I realized that power is not for the weak. That is why you defeated him. That is why the Prince was hurt."

Sir Galen got up from his stool and reassured the girl. "You reminded him of who he is."

With that, Sir Galen left the girl to ponder her actions. He could not fight a smirk from forming upon his exit.