Chapter 20: A New Trio

Although Freya and Alfred were long gone, Ronan leaned in close to listen to Clove.

“The Novice exams are coming up,” she said, slicing a sausage, “and Alfred and Freya intended on sabotaging any chance you had at passing.”

Ronan looked at her puzzled. “What’re the Novice exams?”

“Oh,” Clove said, adjusting in her seat. Ronan could tell her bandaged leg was bothering her, and he felt bad for inflicting the wound. “The Novice exams are how you put your Ranks to good use. I guess maybe things worked differently with the Serpents. But once you hold the title or Novice, you’re able to accept missions to hunt monsters and help people in the city.”

Ronan nodded, feeling a surge of energy strike him. He attacked his own breakfast. “Sounds like a rite of passage.”

Clove held out a forkful of eggs, sipped at her coffee, and replied, “Exactly right.”

In that moment, Ronan noticed that beneath the once pretentious and arrogant facade, Clove really was quite cute. Her pale blue eyes reminded him of watching the sun rise up over clouds in the afternoon.

“Did I hear someone mention the Novice exams?” Ike huffed. He was on the same crutch he’d dropped in the Training Grounds, though moving more dexterous than before. Balanced in his other hand was a tray of food.

“Ike,” Ronan said with a smile. “Please join us. Clove and I were just catching up.”

Steam from Ike’s plate of food and coffee rose in front of his oiled muttonchops.

“You’re talking to Clove?” he asked aloofly. “Well I hope she’s here to make right by you.”

Ike wobbled a bit as he walked, but stuck his tongue between his teeth, furled his brow, and held onto his tray. A fork fell and before it could hit the ground, Clove reached out and caught it.

She helped Ike bring the tray to the table and sit down.

“I’m here to make right by you too, Ike,” she said. “I was never kind to you.”

She shook her head, let a few tears fall down her cheek and said, “You never deserved such foul harassment. I’m sorry.”

Ike brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth, started to chew in befuddlement, then quickly realized he’d lost his manners. He brought a napkin in front of his mouth, hurried down his mouthful, then said, “Wow, Clove. That’s truly very big of you.”

“Thanks,” Ike said with a shy smile.

Ronan grinned. “So, the Novice exams. Ike, you excited for them?”

“Am I ever!” Ike’s muttonchops had a sheen to them while he chewed. “But I first need to get my Mark of the Butterfly. I don’t know how I’ll make that jump like you did, Ronan.”

“I could go up with you,” Clove said, darting her eyes at Ike. He blushed and nodded.

Clanking his fork to his plate twice, he said, his cheeks flushed, “I’d like that.”

“Then everybody eat up!” Ronan declared. “We’ll start training the moment we’re done.”

And the three dined, getting to know each other a little better, and realizing that despite their very different backgrounds, they all had much more in common than they had thought. Ike and Clove connected almost immediately, and Clove noticed that for all his clumsiness, he was very funny, warm, and for whatever he might've lacked in brute strength, he made up for with a heart of pure gold. Seeing Ike and Clove flirt made Ronan feel like he’d brought together two people who needed each other. He left them to spar somewhat early into the morning to answer the summon of Farrier. The several hours of training Ronan was able to participate in had depleted him, so he quickly darted to the dining hall to fill up on a second breakfast.

“Grab your plate to go,” Farrier boomed from the Training Grounds, walking rigidly and fast through the line of sleepy and yawning Trainees. His toolbelt clanked as he waved Ronan over.

“Coffee!” Farrier shouted. “You’ll need a lot of it for today!”

Ronan poured two mugs and followed Farrier to the forge.

“With people heading out to the Novice exams,” Farrier said, “We’ll be the ones responsible for crafting their armor.”

Ronan set his plate down on a wooden table near the forge, along with the two coffees.

He took a sip and said, “Whatever you need, Master Farrier, I’m your man.”

“In this I trust!” Farrier laughed.

He gulped down half a mug of steaming coffee and continued, “We’re going to be making an assortment of heavy and light armors for those who hit Novice status. This will be our task for the month.”

“Light armor,” Ronan said, “Like the leather cuirass Maritza wears?”

“Indeed so! And iron and steel for those who don’t move as fast as she does. Now, hand me that animal pelt!”

Ronan stuffed his mouth full of sausage, then rolled the beige pelt over to Farrier.

For eight hours, the two worked in a near supernatural tandem, tanning animal hides in the sun, dipping the leather in tar to make it thick and strong, and then stitching it all together to be worn by Trainees who passed the exams.

At the end of it all, as the two men sweat and huffed and puffed, Farrier tossed Ronan a small pouch. In it were silver coins.

“I’ll deduct several coins each day to pay for your lodging,” Farrier winked. “Which leaves you with a somewhat hefty reward for your grueling work. Just be sure to save some of it away. You never know when you might need some money for a rainy day.”

“I’ve never had money,” Ronan said, tossing the pouch up and down in his hand, “so I’ll be sure to be careful with it.”

“That’s my boy!” Farrier said. He quickly cleared his throat and shouted, “Well, what I mean is that you’ve done good work!”

Ronan chuckled at Farrier’s paternal motivations. He was really a good man, and Ronan valued his lessons. But Ronan was tired, and in many ways, the day seemed as though it was just beginning.

On top of the pouch of money, Farrier tossed Ronan a set of iron keys.

“For your quarters,” Farrier said in front of the fiery forge, crossing his arms. “It’s not much but it’s lodging.

Ronan chuckled and dangled the keys in front of his eyes. “Does this mean that the Elders have decided to let me stay?”

Farrier pointed to strips of leather beside the weapons rack, and Ronan handed it to him.

“Well,” Farrier said, tying the leather around the hilt of a thin steel sword with a slightly curved blade. “The Elders were obviously upset about your altercation with Alfred, and how their star child now has a face as beautiful as the sole of my boot.”

The leather made a cracking noise as Farrier made it snug around the hilt. “But, the Elders did investigate your suggestion of that bread man Habbot. Indeed, there was Hellsworn activity at the house with the Slaug you defeated. Or at least, what we can imagine to be Hellsworn activity. It was dark magic unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

Farrier handed Ronan the curved sword and Ronan began to polish it with wax.

“I’m grateful for the Elder’s decisions, and I’ll accept any consequences for my actions,” Ronan said.

Farrier nodded and held back a smirk. “Truthfully, the only consequence I foresee is your Hellblade remaining in the Elder’s possession until they can finish studying it.”

Farrier wrapped both hands around his belly and boomed, “Which is such a shame, because I really outdid myself with that blade! Until then, that’ll be the sword you train with.”

Ronan observed it, felt its weight in his palm, and realized that it felt like a twig compared to the Hellblade.

Still, he said, “Thank you, Farrier. This is incredible.”

“Oh, don’t be so formal! I know it’s nothing compared to that black masterpiece! But with this curved sword, the Elders won’t get at you for bringing it to the Novice exams.”

“I’ll pass those exams, and I’ll help anybody who needs a monster hunted,” Ronan said with such determination that the hairs on the back of Farrier’s neck stood up.

“In the meantime,” Farrier laughed, “try and get some rest, won’t you?”

He tossed Ronan a thick leather sheath emblazoned with a gold trim and said, “Your lodging is beside Ike’s quarters on the third floor. I figured you two were friends.”

Ronan nodded at Farrier, spun the key around his finger, then said, “This is what it must feel like to have a father.”

Farrier looked like the air in his lungs was sucked out from him, and his eyes opened wide. His toolbelt rattled as he stepped around the forge.

“Alright alright,” Farrier stammered, his slow pacing picking up into a march. “Be easy on this old man’s heart, if you’d be so kind? I’m quite proud of you, Ronan. You’ve been thrust into a new world and you continue to adapt.”

Before the happy tears could begin falling from his eyes, Farrier chased Ronan out from the forge. “That’s enough for tonight, my friend. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last look behind him, Ronan saw Farrier swipe a tear from his eye.

“It’s just so damn smoky in here!” Farrier called out, waving smoke from the forge away.

Ronan laughed and made his way to the third floor. He waved to Ike who was just entering his room, bathed and exhausted from a hard work of training.

“Hey, let’s see!” Ronan said, gesturing to Ike’s shoulders. “Did you get it?”

Ike spun around nimbly and revealed the large set of butterfly wings tattooed across his shoulders.

“I did,” he said humbly.

Ronan raised a fist to the air. He would’ve clapped and cheered, though he knew other Trainees were trying to sleep. Ronan ran silently over to Ike, patted him on the arm and ruffled the top of his long brown hair.

Ike smiled, then said, “It’s the best feeling of my life.”

Ronan gave him a thumbs up and a wink.

“The best feeling of your life, so far,” Ronan quipped. “We’ll see what happens between you and Clove.”

Ike’s cheeks went rosy.

“Congratulations,” Ronan said. “You’ve got big things coming ahead for you, and I know you’ll pass the Novice exams.”

“I don’t think I’d ever be this happy with myself if it wasn’t for you,” Ike admitted.

“You had my back, and I got yours,” Ronan said. “Now get some rest, man. You look beat.”

“Right back at you,” Ike laughed. “And thanks again.”

Ike entered his quarters, and Ronan entered his own.

He nearly dropped his new sheathed sword. It was a room as large and wide as the forge, fully decorated and furnished with a cooking area, restroom, and big bed to sleep in.

That night, he fell asleep pretty quickly. He dreamt of Maritza again, standing by his side. Runes from The Shroud covered their skin, and Ronan held the black Hellblade out in front him. A snarling monster’s mouth as large as the temple roared at them, and then he snapped back awake.

It was the early hours of morning, even before the roosters had started to crow.

Cold sweat raced down the sides of his head. He flinched and nearly fell out of his bed when he saw it— beside his curved sword, in no sheath and glowing a faint black, the Hellblade rested by the windowsill.