Chapter Text
“I’m not sure if it's better off or not.” Beatrice examines Ava’s handiwork with faint amusement in the morning light that tries to wash away the gloom dank of the room.
Polishing the metal parts of the armor using a pummace stone, Ava’s face sours. “I redid it twice at least.”
Beatrice hums. She picks up the sewing pouch containing threads and needles and sits down next to Ava. She whips a small utilitarian blade seemingly out of nowhere and promptly starts to unstitch the seam that Ava had labored over for hours.
“Hey! That took me all night!” Watching her hard work disappear before her eyes she almost bursts into tears. Beatrice threads up the needle and shows Ava the double running stitch. It's fast and doesn’t require stitching back along the same seam just made. She hands the cloak to Ava and takes the armor from the other woman to continue polishing it.
“So you do know how to do all this stuff, you were just too lazy to do it.”
“No. I was in a hurry.”
“There was no way this rust just formed overnight.”
“I am always in a hurry,” Beatrice leaves off polishing the metal and pulls out some beeswax to tackle the leather.
“If you say so,” Ava teases.
“I do say so.”
“And now? Are you in a hurry now?” Ava can hear the street getting busy with the morning crowd. Beatrice might be itching to get on the road.
“Well, I have a squire now. Thought it’d be more efficient if I spend some time teaching her. But now I’m not so sure it would be.”
“Rude.”
Beatrice looks at Ava with a thoughtful expression. Ava realizes maybe she was the rude one to be a squire who calls her knight rude.
“I promise I’m a fast learner,” she shows Beatrice her stitches, “see? Not bad huh?” She has indeed made progress much faster than she expected. Already there is a long row of relatively even stitches in the heavy cloth.
“Not bad indeed.”
“You’ve saddled horses before?”
Ava shakes her head. People have given her saddled horses to ride many times but she has never had a reason to do it herself.
Beatrice hums and points to pieces of tack and demonstrates what some of them are used for.
“She is a little touchy sometimes with strangers. But she will get used to you.” The knight gives the horse an affectionate pet on the nose.
“Have you ridden her in battles?”
“Yes. She doesn’t look like much but she is braver than many humans.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Fig. As in the tree.”
Ava snickers. She would think the horse will have some sharper names like “Galavant”, “Shadow”, “Hero”, or “Ghostwind” to match the somber, brooding and taciturn nature of the knight. But “Fig” was definitely not what she had in mind.
“The stable master who gave me my first instructions in caring for animals taught me to never name your horse something special.”
“In case they die in battle? Like your squire?”
“Yes.” Beatrice gives Fig another gentle stroke on the nose.
“Sorry I brought that up again.”
“It’s alright, though we should get on the road soon.” She squints and peers at the sun hanging almost above their heads.
The eastern part of the kingdom of Divinia is rocky and hilly. Further east at the border are high mountains swirled with clouds. Beyond the mountains is a narrow strip of unmanned territory, a gorge, plagued with cursed creatures. The only pass through the mountains] is guarded by the Watch. Their job is to make sure the cursed creatures don’t come beyond the mountains and kill the citizens. Legend or prophecy has it that one day the creatures will be so great in number they will invade the kingdom and all the way to the Palace in Sundrift, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
A breeze goes by reminding Ava once again of where they are and how chilly the mountain air has become.
Beatrice is mounted on her palfrey and Ava walks dejectedly alongside. A part of her had hoped that she might share the saddle to spare her tired legs.
But the knight only said “let’s go. Walking will warm you up” with a smirk when they set off.
To descend back down to the midlands from the hills, they have followed a winding mountain path. The hills go from incline to decline and back to incline every couple of turns. The paths are narrow with loose stones in a variety of sizes. It even gives the horse some trouble. Before long, a light drizzle starts. They are only an hour or so into their travel of the day from the inn but Ava’s rags are soaked with sweat and rain. Whenever the wind blows, she shivers with cold.
Days prior, Ava had taken a circuitous route that followed the foothills to get to the town they had met. It was a much longer travel but was along gentle well tilled slopes. And part of her journey was on a nice old man’s donkey cart. It had been sunny and warm, nothing like her current misery.
The knight must be in a desperate rush to take the short but steep route.
Behind her, she hears a soft “whoa,” and Fig stops obediently.
“What’s wrong?” Ava’s teeth chatter as Beatrice dismounts.
The knight unpins her cloak and drapes it over Ava’s shoulders. “Hop on. We can trade for a bit,” Beatrice offers a cupped hand to help Ava mount.
Surprised, Ava looks down at the hand not understanding.
“Go on, we don’t have time to spare. I need to reach Sundrift in a week’s time.”
Huffing, Ava uses Beatrice’s hand to mount the horse. “Was I dawdling too much for you?”
“Yes. My patience is wearing thin,” though the tiniest smile on the knight’s lip tells Ava that the statement was quite the opposite of the truth.
“The brooding knight has got jokes. Who would have thought?”
Beatrice doesn’t answer, instead just places one hand on her sword hilt and pulls the staff from its mount on the saddle and marches on.
In the cold wind, Ava suddenly feels her eyes stinging. Ever since she left her friends, no one has treated her half as good. Back in the palace, she was spoiled with good food and soft linen, sure, but that’s because she’s the princess. But now, she’s outside her city walls and left that all behind. She’s gotten her freedom, but she is also all alone. No one has even given her a second glance, but the knight here saved her from harm, gave her food, and even cared about her well-being.
Ava’s mind wanders on somehow to that one of the rituals in a wedding is to exchange cloaks. Startled at the thought, she looks at the knight silently marching ahead, back straight, footfall steady. Ava shakes herself out of the thought. What is she even thinking? She is supposed to be running away from the Divinia court, not getting entangled with a different form of aristocrat. Based on what Beatrice has said and how she has acted, she is probably a second or third daughter of a northern lord.
Ava should only travel along with Beatrice for the safe passage she provides for a short time. Whatever timing that is, she should quickly be on her way. Ava pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders and tries to not think about how nice and warm it is keeping her and how she wishes she could cocoon in it forever.
It is a bit after midday and the mist has finally been blown off the mountains around them. They are passing through what might be classified as a small village. Even the title of village is a bit of an exaggeration. There are just a few stone houses and a hut with several hides hanging on frames flanked by drying meats, and large lidded stoneware pots. An older woman is rhythmically grinding some grain between two stones sliding back and forth while singing a local song about the harshness of winter and long dark nights.
As they approach Ava realizes that the old woman’s eyes have a foggy sheen to them. She has stopped singing long enough to greet them. Beatrice goes to speak to the woman leaving Ava with Fig.
The locals don’t have much going on here. One of the stone structures is clearly a shrine and the other a storage hall being stocked for cold weather to survive this far from a larger settlement.
After a few minutes of low conversation, the woman disappears into the hut and Beatrice returns to dig for something from the horse’s far to light saddle bags. Ava never gets to see whatever it is the knight retrieves from the bag before it has been exchanged for a middling green woolen cloak.
Ava watches in surprise as Beatrice flings the blanket around her own shoulders and secures it around her neck with a broach that came out of nowhere.
“Neither of us would freeze now. Shall we?” The cloak is not a bad match for the greens of the surrounding forest and it will make for a decent blanket at nightfall.
Just like that they are on the road again.
After an endless amount of rocky ascents and descents, during which Ava has slipped more than once from loose gravel, Beatrice finally decides to set up camp. The sun has not yet dipped behind the jagged outlines of the mountains, giving them enough time to get ready for the dark.
The spot Beatrice selected was nearer a stone wall that serves as a solid windbreak. It only took a few minutes for Beatrice to clear a piece of ground, lay down some shale stones from nearby and set a fire. Not long after the fire gets going a small pan is sitting on top of it with a slightly watery porridge going.
Every once in a while Beatrice stirs the pot while Ava keeps her hands over the fire to warm them up. It is a companionable silence. Neither of them seems to want to share more about themselves just yet as the sky turns to a lovely shade of light purple and the grains in the porridge thicken.
The fire crackles and bathed in its warm orange glow, even the brooding knight looks softer and more amicable than ever. Ava feels… happy. Happy might be the wrong word. Safe and content with as little as she has. Remembering something, she reaches into a satchel from the folds under her tattered vest. On her outstretched palms, are a few small pieces of dried meat.
Instead of the appreciative delight Ava was imagining, Beatrice frowns. “Where did you get these?”
“When you were trading for the cloak. I, uh, …got them.” Ava makes her tone light but Beatrice’s frowns deepen.
“You mean you stole them,” Beatrice’s voice is stern and flat.
“Well…”
Beatrice lets out an exacerbated sigh and looks away. The strand of hair that broke away from her bun sways angrily.
“That was from people’s hard labor. You don’t just take it.”
“I just took the scraps…” Ava plucks at the meager bites of meat in her palms.
“I don’t care. I won't eat it,” Beatrice looks away as if another look at the small portions of meat will set her on fire.
“Well we can’t exactly go and give them back!” That just seems to Ava like wasting perfectly good dried meat. “You can’t expect me to throw it away! That seems like a bigger sin!”
“Stealing is not tolerated. Knights are sworn to help people. We are to give largesse not to be a burden on those who cannot support it!”
“You swore that oath. I did not!”
“If you want to be my squire, you will need to abide by my rules. And being honest and just are on the top of the list.”
“Will you stop the lecture? Gods, you sound just like...” she cuts herself off before she can slander the important people in Divinia and reveals her true identity. “Do whatever you want with it. Feed it to the animals if you think that makes any kind of sense.” She leaves the dried meat in front of Beatrice and stands up, mumbling “don’t know what I was thinking…”
“Where are you going?” Beatrice’s eyes follow her as she walks away from their fire and along the rock wall.
“Taking a walk.”
“Don’t go far. It’s nightfall.” The knight yells after her.
Ava wants to throw out a petulant “like you care” but doesn’t.
She wanders along the path lined with low shrubbery, kicking the loose pebbles that dare get in her way. She is so angry and ashamed of herself. All she wanted was to do something nice and instead she has made Beatrice angry. Of course Beatrice the honorable knight who came to her rescue would not be agreeable to her liberating a little dried meat.
Sighing heavily, Ava plops down along the path and buries her head between her knees. It has been a long day of mountain traversing and she is exhausted and hungry. She doesn’t know where she is headed. Yesterday she was putting all of her faith into an adventure with Beatrice, and now it seems to have turned upside down.
When the moon starts to shine brightly over the trees, Ava returns to the campfire. If she was honest with herself, she did take a wrong turn and almost couldn’t find her way back. But the detour was worth it. Wrapped in the hem of her tunics are some purple berries. She dumped the fruit in front of Beatrice.
The knight looks up at her from the berries. The fire dances in her eyes.
“Relax, the berries were plucked from nearby the path, not stolen .” Ava wipes her juice stained fingers on her tunics before sitting down.
“Thank you.” Ava is relieved that Beatrice’s tone is no longer prickly. “I left you some.” The knight points at the small pan.
Floating in the broth along with the grains are undoubtedly the broken up chunks of the dried meat that Ava had purloined.
“I am sorry,” Ava says quietly, more sincerely this time.
“If you want to be my squire, you’ll have to know that honor is a creed I go by. And theft is not tolerated under any circumstance. I don’t really care how you survived before. But from now on, we are a team and you can ask me if you want or need something.”
“I just wanted to help.”
“I know you did.”
They sit like that for a moment, Ava quietly sipping her porridge while Beatrice puts a berry into her mouth every once in a while.
“These berries are delicious.” The knight finally says. “You’re useful without the stealing.” As if to prove her point, Beatrice raises a berry to her quirked up lips and bites into it. There is a dull pop as the berry bursts between Beatrice’s teeth. Ava’s mind goes blank for a second and quickly averts her gaze. She supposes she can go above stealing to get by, as the squire for a knight.