White-bellied and red-beaked, a bird sat just an arm's reach from him, deftly weaving flowers about itself.
The red on its beak rubbed off onto the flowers, painting their pretty white petals. Kain watched as it wound them all together.
Its wing flapped as it finished the ring and began another. Kain handed the bird half a stick of jerky, and it jumped backwards.
Its orange-yellow feet flashed black talons and sprang forward with a single flap of its wings. It half stood on his hand, picking the meat from his palm. It swallowed the thing whole and squawked.
"Good boy", Kain moved to scratch it, but its beak bit into his gauntlet, leaving only the blood on its beak.
Kain stood, and the bird flew off, leaving the ring of flowers on the island. Two more birds were floating in the water surrounded by half diluted blood. One had been decapitated, and the other had its heart ripped from it.
He reached down and plucked the ring from between the white flowers and rested it on his head.
Chatter came from the east, a horde of knights on horseback clambered through the bog. Two golden knights, a man with a cloak of bird feathers, a knight whose armour looked like the sea and countless others. Behind them trailed countless cadets in all sorts of armour.
Lord Braemoor led the column with Ser Finnian and his son on either side of him. He stopped, and so did the whole lot of them at the sight of Kain. They marched faster now.
"You there?" Ser Braemoor pointed his gnarled finger at the boy.
Before the sickly looking lord could utter another word, Kain walked to the edge of the island and held out the scroll.
Ser Finnian rode out to meet him and waved the rest to join him as he checked the recommendation.
"He is here to participate under see Othrick, my lord", Finnian feigned ignorance.
"Bah, so be it", the lord waved a frail hand.
'The island may sink,' he thought as more and more piled onto it.
Stakes were driven into the soft earth, and a string was wound around each, connecting them together. Lords and knights stood about the makeshift area; some scowled, and others laughed amongst themselves. Ser Braemoor reddened at their amusement.
"You're all here to prove yourselves-" Finnian broke the slowly building tension.
Kain's mind and eyes wandered around and spotted a lord looking down at the flattened flowers where Kain had slept just moments before with a confused look.
"Prove yourselves here and one of these lords and knights may be kind enough to pick you as their squire" Finnian stepped back and lord Braemoor's son moved forward with a scroll in hand.
"Any who step outside of the perimeter, fall to their knees, or yield will forfeit", he cleared his throat.
"Each lord shall take their turn to pick one of you to fight another. The fight begins where I say fight, understood?" He rolled the scroll back up.
"Yes, Ser!" Every cadet yelled except Kain.
Lord Braemoor gave a wide near toothless grin as he pointed a decrepit finger at Kain.
"And who would you choose, Lord Kestrel?" The sickly lord's smile was a revolting thing to look at.
A young boy as pale as milk with paler hair and eyes as black as coal timidly pointed towards a cadet the same height as Kain.
His armour was black and plain with no cloak and a visored helmet. He stepped into the ring with a sword in his right and shield in the left.
Kain lumbered forward, his greatsword dragging in the dirt and felt as if it would sink him deeper and deeper into the mud with each step.
"State your names," the lord's son spoke.
Kain turned to Finnian, but the knight only shook his head. His mind raced to think of a name.
"Lennick of Markeel," the cadet lowered his vision and spun the sword in his hand.
Kain paused for a moment. He cranes his neck and let out a soft smile.
"Othrick of white flower", Kain pulled the greatsword from his back and held it in front of him.
"Fight!"
Lennick sprang to Kain's left and swung from Kain's neck. The greatsword moved to meet the boy's blade. Both blades bite into each other before they jump back to try again.
The greatsword is slow and cumbersome, yet with each swing, Kain feels more confident.
Their swords clashed again and again, neither making ground. Lennick was light on his feet. Each time Kain swung his sword, the boy would dodge and weave, trying to get in a hit between attacks.
"Come then, flower boy", Lennick of Markeel danced back and forth.
Kain buried his sword into the boy's shield so deep it broke through the metal rim, splintered the wooden frame and embedded itself into the metal core.
Lennick dropped his shield and moved in with his sword; the first strike bounced off a pauldron, and Kain dropped his sword.
Lennick spun around Kain and thrusted his sword through the back of the boy's white wolf pelt at the base of his spine. He stepped back as Kain slumped forward slightly.
The crowd gasped as Lennick closed his eyes to take in the moment and bowed. As he did, the point of Kain's dagger thrust through his eye slit and stayed there. He jolted backwards so hard he fell, slamming his back into the soft earth.
The sword had missed his neck completely, the boy realised, but when he tried to speak, only a half gasp, half sigh came out, and he died in the dirt then and there. Kain leaned over the body and pulled his dagger from the boy's eye, wiping the blood on his white cloak.
Othrick of Whiteflower closed his eyes and bowed to the crowd. The lords ranged from amused to offended or even bored at his display. The knight wrapped in a feather cloak gave a small nod, and the golden knights next to him shared a joke.
Kain stepped out of the ring and watched as two men laid a sheet over Lennick of Markeel and carried him out of the swamp.
"Ser Karsten," the young Braemoor lord turned his head to the bird knight.
Out from beneath the feather cloak, a hand emerged, pointing towards a boy dressed in tidal armour. Even the cadets sword was ocean themed. The hilt was sand yellow, and the sheath ranged from shore to deep sea. Water broke onto the beach, and fish swam at the point of his scabbard.
A single golden gauntlet raised from the crowd, and out stepped a cadet coated in golden armour.
"Arthur Grey, bastard of Toren shore", the tidal cadet spoke first.
'He has the same grin as Thalen's Kain smiled himself.
"Viktor Gild", a timid voice echoed from the golden armour.
Arthur swept over the golden cadet like a wave, crushing him into the ground and placing a foot on his helm in only a matter of seconds.
All the while, Kain could not take his eyes off the bird soaring above them all, circling the island of white flowers.