“Keras!” a motherly voice called out warmly. Keras turned over on his small bed. The voice called out again, but with a little more urgency. “Keras! Food is hot!” Keras rolled over once more. It was one of the few days he and pa didn’t have work to do early in the morning. It wasn’t harvest season yet and the livestock were all fed adequately. It was looking to be a good year. Something his Pa kept remarking. He was taking this opportunity to get as much rest as he could. Warm food was good, but good sleep was better. He groaned and pulled his blanket over his head.
“Keras,” the voice now audible directly from the doorway. Keras kept his eyes shut. He reasoned if he didn’t open them. He wouldn’t have to wake up and face the reality of his mother.
“Your brothers are already awake. Why not join them?” the voice asked.
Brothers? He had no brothers. A cold shiver began to work its way up his spine. He became aware of the fact he was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Don’t open them, his thoughts screamed.
“You must join your brothers Keras,” the voice whispered, now cold and metallic, sounding as if it was directly behind his head. Keras held his blankets tight around him. Don’t look. She said to look away! He heard screams echoing. He heard the burning of fire. He heard the singing of metal grinding against metal.
“Brother Keras. Rise,” the voice boomed. Kera’s eyes shot open and he shot up from in bed. He was not in the bed he remembered. The dark cold stone room was not the one he recognized. His eyes fell upon the source of the voice. A tall man adorned in full armored plate with a dark green hue. His face hidden by his helm only a slit allowing two glowing dots to peer through the darkness. His tabard bore the sigil of white gauntleted fist with a wing sprouting forth from it. He stood in the middle of the stone dormitory room that Keras resided in. Silently waiting for a response.
Keras finally gained his wits about him. “I’m up, I’m up. Thank you Brother Aralon.”
“Thanks are not necessary. Your duties require your attendance. Food has been prepared for you and the others,” Brother Aralon responded curtly. Keras was still not used to them speaking. The Gehdlen. Their voices sounded like they echoed from all around, not like a normal person. By the time Keras finally looked up, the armored man was gone. Keras snorted a little laugh. Always on time. Always things to do. Keras got out of bed and began to get dressed. Dark leather trousers. Dark leather boots. A simple green tunic that bore the same sigil as his “brother” and a leather belt to keep it all together. He looked at a silver platter that held some cleaning instruments that had been provided long ago. In another life it would have been the most valuable thing he owned. Now just a piece of decor. Looking at his own dark black hair, he pushed it back out of his eyes and washed his face from his basin. Good enough. He was late as is.
Keras made his way down the treelit halls of the monastery. He peeked out one of the windows. He was a couple stories above the main training grounds below. The light of the Ewig bathed a warm light down upon the entire monastery. Keras still yawned. It might be bright, but it was still night. The moon shone through the branches and leaves of the Ewig, barely visible.
He kept walking, his boot falls echoing through the halls. Passing one of the many personal quarters of the dormitory, he thought he heard crying. He paused for a moment. It was a familiar sound. It usually came from the newly initiated. A traumatic time for anyone. The temptation to investigate grew the longer he stood there. Maybe he could offer his heart, his feelings, help this time pass faster. He remembered a time when he was crying. For months. Maybe even years. It was hard to keep track. His thoughts were interrupted by my metal foot falls on the stone flooring. He looked up, to see three more armored Gehlden walking in perfect symmetry. Their gate looked like a pulse or a beat as they strode forth. They passed Keras and in unison turned to face the door where the crying was coming from. One of the knights’ helm turned to face Keras. Keras cringed as he looked away and kept walking. Behind he could hear a knock before a loud entrance and more crying.
Keras tried putting the disturbance from his mind and before long he found himself in the kitchen with his fellow humans, only a handful currently sat at the table where they all ate. There were many more of course, but schedules were always differing. All came from different walks of life. Farmers, tradesmen, soldiers, vagabonds, even a noble here and there. Some had been with the order longer than others. All had different levels of belief in their new masters. Some converted to save themselves. Others had come willingly, truly believing in their newfound home and faith. They hardly talked, but always shared knowing glances. Something that they all agreed on however, the food was not great. Warm slop at the best of times. Keras grabbed a bowl and served himself from a large cauldron hanging over warm coals. He sat down with his fellows. They all smiled and nodded in turn. He returned them to each of them. It’s all they could do to make the days go by a bit easier. They all called each other brothers, but this was as close as it came to being a reality for Keras.
Quickly he scarfed down his breakfast. The less he had to taste the better. He parted ways with his fellows. Now the time was upon him. The part he hated the most. Every day it came. Every day he worked through it. This day would be no different. It was time to report to his chaplain of the order. Keras made his way from the kitchens to the main hall of the monastery. Despite being a chapel adorned in iconography of the great tree that illuminated the windows themselves, it was full of tables, chairs, and record keeping. Keras’s chaplain sat at one of these tables scribbling away in a large tome. Brother Neror. A Gehlden man. He wore heavy robes with the hood drawn to cover most of his visage, leaving only a dark void where the signature glowing eyes of his kind peered out.
Keras stepped in front of the table. Neror kept scribbling and without looking up to acknowledge the man’s presence used his free hand to give Keras a small piece of parchment. It would contain his duties for the day. As of late he had been assigned to ceremonial duties in the chapel or assisting in record keeping in the vast library the order maintained. Keras bowed a bit as a mock sign of respect and stepped away before reading the parchment. Report to the brother Abderus, a weapons master for weapons training. He stopped in the middle of a hallway as he had to reread it to make sure. Weapons master?! That meant combat training and armor training. The path to Knighthood. He looked back to where Brother Neror sat, still scribbling, wondering if he should interrupt him to ask if it was true if there had been some mistake. But he already knew it was true. There was no mistake. He knew what brother Neror would say. “You waste time, brother.” And there was no time to waste. Not anymore.
“Keras,” the voice now audible directly from the doorway. Keras kept his eyes shut. He reasoned if he didn’t open them. He wouldn’t have to wake up and face the reality of his mother.
“Your brothers are already awake. Why not join them?” the voice asked.
Brothers? He had no brothers. A cold shiver began to work its way up his spine. He became aware of the fact he was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Don’t open them, his thoughts screamed.
“You must join your brothers Keras,” the voice whispered, now cold and metallic, sounding as if it was directly behind his head. Keras held his blankets tight around him. Don’t look. She said to look away! He heard screams echoing. He heard the burning of fire. He heard the singing of metal grinding against metal.
“Brother Keras. Rise,” the voice boomed. Kera’s eyes shot open and he shot up from in bed. He was not in the bed he remembered. The dark cold stone room was not the one he recognized. His eyes fell upon the source of the voice. A tall man adorned in full armored plate with a dark green hue. His face hidden by his helm only a slit allowing two glowing dots to peer through the darkness. His tabard bore the sigil of white gauntleted fist with a wing sprouting forth from it. He stood in the middle of the stone dormitory room that Keras resided in. Silently waiting for a response.
Keras finally gained his wits about him. “I’m up, I’m up. Thank you Brother Aralon.”
“Thanks are not necessary. Your duties require your attendance. Food has been prepared for you and the others,” Brother Aralon responded curtly. Keras was still not used to them speaking. The Gehdlen. Their voices sounded like they echoed from all around, not like a normal person. By the time Keras finally looked up, the armored man was gone. Keras snorted a little laugh. Always on time. Always things to do. Keras got out of bed and began to get dressed. Dark leather trousers. Dark leather boots. A simple green tunic that bore the same sigil as his “brother” and a leather belt to keep it all together. He looked at a silver platter that held some cleaning instruments that had been provided long ago. In another life it would have been the most valuable thing he owned. Now just a piece of decor. Looking at his own dark black hair, he pushed it back out of his eyes and washed his face from his basin. Good enough. He was late as is.
Keras made his way down the treelit halls of the monastery. He peeked out one of the windows. He was a couple stories above the main training grounds below. The light of the Ewig bathed a warm light down upon the entire monastery. Keras still yawned. It might be bright, but it was still night. The moon shone through the branches and leaves of the Ewig, barely visible.
He kept walking, his boot falls echoing through the halls. Passing one of the many personal quarters of the dormitory, he thought he heard crying. He paused for a moment. It was a familiar sound. It usually came from the newly initiated. A traumatic time for anyone. The temptation to investigate grew the longer he stood there. Maybe he could offer his heart, his feelings, help this time pass faster. He remembered a time when he was crying. For months. Maybe even years. It was hard to keep track. His thoughts were interrupted by my metal foot falls on the stone flooring. He looked up, to see three more armored Gehlden walking in perfect symmetry. Their gate looked like a pulse or a beat as they strode forth. They passed Keras and in unison turned to face the door where the crying was coming from. One of the knights’ helm turned to face Keras. Keras cringed as he looked away and kept walking. Behind he could hear a knock before a loud entrance and more crying.
Keras tried putting the disturbance from his mind and before long he found himself in the kitchen with his fellow humans, only a handful currently sat at the table where they all ate. There were many more of course, but schedules were always differing. All came from different walks of life. Farmers, tradesmen, soldiers, vagabonds, even a noble here and there. Some had been with the order longer than others. All had different levels of belief in their new masters. Some converted to save themselves. Others had come willingly, truly believing in their newfound home and faith. They hardly talked, but always shared knowing glances. Something that they all agreed on however, the food was not great. Warm slop at the best of times. Keras grabbed a bowl and served himself from a large cauldron hanging over warm coals. He sat down with his fellows. They all smiled and nodded in turn. He returned them to each of them. It’s all they could do to make the days go by a bit easier. They all called each other brothers, but this was as close as it came to being a reality for Keras.
Quickly he scarfed down his breakfast. The less he had to taste the better. He parted ways with his fellows. Now the time was upon him. The part he hated the most. Every day it came. Every day he worked through it. This day would be no different. It was time to report to his chaplain of the order. Keras made his way from the kitchens to the main hall of the monastery. Despite being a chapel adorned in iconography of the great tree that illuminated the windows themselves, it was full of tables, chairs, and record keeping. Keras’s chaplain sat at one of these tables scribbling away in a large tome. Brother Neror. A Gehlden man. He wore heavy robes with the hood drawn to cover most of his visage, leaving only a dark void where the signature glowing eyes of his kind peered out.
Keras stepped in front of the table. Neror kept scribbling and without looking up to acknowledge the man’s presence used his free hand to give Keras a small piece of parchment. It would contain his duties for the day. As of late he had been assigned to ceremonial duties in the chapel or assisting in record keeping in the vast library the order maintained. Keras bowed a bit as a mock sign of respect and stepped away before reading the parchment. Report to the brother Abderus, a weapons master for weapons training. He stopped in the middle of a hallway as he had to reread it to make sure. Weapons master?! That meant combat training and armor training. The path to Knighthood. He looked back to where Brother Neror sat, still scribbling, wondering if he should interrupt him to ask if it was true if there had been some mistake. But he already knew it was true. There was no mistake. He knew what brother Neror would say. “You waste time, brother.” And there was no time to waste. Not anymore.
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