"A misstep on my part." Gil cleaned the bowl in one of the taps at the town centre. In the distance you could hear the sound of seagulls as they scavenged the beach for crustations to munch on. He thought of returning the bowl, but he remembered that the man of that household had a machete and a blade with no hilt that he stole from a dead knight once.
"Best not antagonize him more than I already have." He held the plate firmly and made his way to a different part of the town, passing by the knight training center, (Yes I made that up right now.)
He took a pause and stared. It was an open field with what little grass remained in this town. The line seemed to have been shortening by the minute, the reason for this was fairly simple.
CUT!
"Next!" There was a man, medium height, black hair and brown eyes. He wiped his sword with a piece of fabric that he then dipped back into a bucket of cold water.
"Here sir." A timid looking boy stepped up into the field. A small wooden fence surrounded it and on the outside were other knights.
"What might be your name?" The man asked, but not out of care or concern but rather out of protocol.
"Jerry…sir."
"You wish to become a squire?" He asked again for the same reason.
"Yes of course, it is my…"
Before the poor lad could finish the sentence the man's blade found its way to his shoulder blade, lodging itself there.
"Damn it, why does this keep happening?" He pulled it out.
"AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!" Jerry screamed getting onto his knees.
"C'mon Jeremy." The knight said, "In the capital there are far much more brutal people than me, so its either you get up or get lost."
"Why?!!!!!" Jerry was bleeding profusely from his right shoulder.
"Huh?" The man sighed, "Get him out of my sight." Two of the knights jumped over the fence and lumped him on their backs.
"Gosh, there's blood everywhere."
The man took the fabric and wiped the blood away again, "Next!"
"Pretty brutal right?" Somehow Gil had been so into the fight that he didn't notice a knight standing beside him.
"Oh… um… yeah I suppose."
"A while back they used to use wooden swords, and the bar was pretty low." He stuffed his face full of fish as he spoke.
"When was that?" Gil wondered.
"How old are you?"
"17."
"Yeah, that was before you're time… I'd say perhaps 20 years ago."
"Such a drastic change, why's that?"
"Well, maybe it because magic and sorcery are beginning to be such a common thing nowadays." The man yawned , his breath stank of cheap beer and fish. A disgusting combination.
"Sorcery? Like witchcraft?"
"For lack of a better word, yes."
What he didn't tell Gil, whether intentionally or unintentionally, is that the people using this 'witchcraft.' sometimes weren't even witches or people with the background, just random people.
"Have you encountered any?" Gil asked, a bit curious.
"Nope, but I hear the boss's dealt with a ton of them all the way in the west." He said refering to the man cutting down… sorry I mean testing the townspeople
"West?"
"Just a little west of here is a large country called the east sun or something. People there are said to use that sorcery."
"A country full of witches!?" Gil's eyes widened, "What if they decide to rebel, what will you guys do?"
"Nothing, we're just rookies at this. The real army is at the capital."
"Oh… I see." That statement alone was enough to fan the flame of controversy he had within his heart about the knights stationed in this land.
"Patrick, come help with this one!"
"Sure, I'm on it." The knight began his march, "See ya kid."
"Yeah." Gil awkwardly waved. He then turned and continued his journey. He had mentally decided to give the bowl to a family that lived just a few blocks away from the town centre. They had a son and three daughters, the son was delinquent, but a friend of his, one of the daughters he had actually met this morning with the bishop.
"Not around?" Gil was surprised knocking on the door and asking for Mark, his delinquent friend.
"What about Catharine?"
"Hasn't come back yet, thought you'd know where she is actually." The big man standing on the door was their uncle.
"She left this morning."
"Oh, she did?" The man scratched his head.
"But I also heard that a chief wanted her hand in marriage, how's that going?" A bit of small talk, he would always be happy if a friend of his had the opportunity to leave this forsaken town.
The man didn't respond to his question
"If you find her, tell her to come back before dinner."
Gil nodded. "Of course but…"
He closed the door shut. "Weird, I guess."
He left, the bowl out of his hands. He could go and look for them, but he should go and check in with the bishop before then.
"I need to tell him of his other tasks before the day's end."
The cathedral was never crowded on days other than Sunday. That was probably because of the rules that forbade anyone who wasn't sick or injured to remain home on a Sunday.
RESPECT THE SABATH DAY AND KEEP IT HOLY: As the scriptures read.
He arrived at the door, removing his leather sandals on the mat before making his way inside.
"Gil, we were just talking about you." The bishop rushed towards him.
"Hallo you're holiness, you and who exactly?"
"Take a seat Gil, she'll be on here way."
"She?" Gil didn't personally know any she's appart from the nuns and a few friends of his around town. Although friends is a stratch, associates is a better word.
"Oh Little Gilly!!!" He heard a loud moaning coming from behind him. He froze up, realizing there was someone he had forced himself to forget. The bringer of nightmares in his life.
"Tell me you missed me." She grabbed his neck and began squeezing. "Tell me please." Her smile was crooked and her pants were heavy. She smelled like blackberries and hints of boiled cabbage stew.
"July, what…what are you doing here?"
"What!" She suddenly got angry and gripped his neck even harder. "What is that suppose to mean.?"
"I…missed…you!" He managed to say gasping for air. She let go… "Oh really?" She walked up to him.
"I've missed you too!" She sat down and gave him a hug. "I've told the bishop that If he didn't take good care of you I'd personally crusify him."
HA!HA!HA!
She laughed histerically, he mouth close to his ear. "You're 18… yes?" She whispered.
"No… still 17." Gil tried avoiding eye contact.
"Not!NOT 18!!!!!!" She sent her gaze to the bishop.
"I told you so." He said, also avoiding eye contact.
"That just can't be, I left for a year and a half. C'mon you're joking right little Gilly?"
RIGHT?!
"No, not really."
"Oh no, no,no." SHe let go of him and got up. WHat she did next surprised the two.
"NO!NO!NO!" She shouted, "I refuse to wait another year."
"But he's not ripe enough yet."
"So? I can't wait any longer!!!!" She shouted to herself as she began pulling her hair.
"Wait, it is January, and little Gilly was born in March." She made a realization. "You're turning 18 in March, right Gilly puh?"
"Yes ma'am."
She ran back and gave him another hug. "I can wait another month, my little Gilly."
"You're excited to be with me forever…" She was very close, touching his lips. Her aura smelt of death, decay and rotting corpses. Gil was petrified, it was always like this. She was always taking advantage of his weak nature… "Right, Gilly?"
He stared into her eyes, and knew he couldn't refuse.
"Yes."