Solace of the sun, p.4
Solace of the Sun, page 4
Suddenly, Robin understood. Tomás Rivera was watching his little bird leave the nest.
She wrapped her arms around her father’s bearlike form, squeezing him tight. His arms wrapped around her as well, unwilling to let go. She tried to abate the welling of tears in her eyes, knowing this was hard for him and trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.
Her father sighed, rubbing Robin’s back. “Please, be careful.”
“I will.”
“Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about,” Tomás quipped with his familiar sarcasm. “It’s the rest of the Frontier. How will they be able to handle you?”
Robin couldn’t help but smile. “I guess they’ll just have to learn to love me, like you.”
He chuckled before mussing her hair. “You’re sure about that?”
“Of course. Why else would you put up with me?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Because I love you.”
“And it’s the greatest gift I’ve ever known.” He gave her one last squeeze before letting go.
As Robin turned to walk out of the store, she paused. Her father looked much older than he really was at that moment, eyes full of sorrow and regret as he tried to reconcile with watching his only daughter finally go out on her own. Would that be her one day, years in the future, watching her own children spread their wings and fly off into the horizon?
“I’ll miss you,” she said.
“I know. Now go on, have your adventure. Stubborn ass.”
Robin giggled, her father’s love as warm as a fur blanket wrapped around the body on a cold winter’s day. It was with a heavy heart that she turned away from him, taking her first step into a much larger world.
☀
Saint Retranar’s brilliant stone statue stretched toward the carved hole in the ceiling of the Abbey’s foyer, far larger than any normal man. His fine robes were creaseless, and his square jaw tilted upward. There was a smile of joy that he always wore, bathing in the Sun’s enlightenment whenever it hung high in the sky. Retra’s founder provided a strange calmness to Robin in the solitary dark of the morning, wondering if he had once been like her in his youth, full of questions and lacking the proper answers.
Other statues of various Saints decorated the edges of the Abbey’s main hall, each of them with their own stories. Robin tried to recall all of them and their stories but found her history rather blurry in the fog of her mind. She had wondered if she should bring her copy of The Holy Saints of Retra but decided against it because of its rather bulky weight that would have proved cumbersome to carry around.
A lethargic weight clung to her form, and Robin rubbed away at her eyes while stifling yawns. Despite priding herself on being a punctual and collected person, she had found it difficult to wake up two hours earlier than her normal time. Her fellow novices in the sleeping quarters seemed to agree that it was a bad time, all of them voicing sleep-addled groans of protest as Robin tried her best to be quiet when getting ready.
Checking the pocket watch her father had given her on her last day of birth, Robin watched as Valevie entered the Abbey five minutes early. The woman seemed to appreciate Robin already being there, giving her a quiet nod. After making sure Robin had forgotten nothing crucial in her packing, the two women made their way through the Capital’s streets.
The city was still under curfew, but having a knightly escort exempted Robin from any punishment. Retra was exceedingly tough on criminal activities, where the mere theft of a piece of bread could cost the offender an entire hand. It had been normal for Robin growing up, but as her father educated her on more “adult” topics, she understood other countries were not nearly as harsh in punishing wrongdoers. There seemed to be a general collective hatred for any who dared step out of line, where even blasphemy in the most extreme of cases could have one Cleansed—their skin stripped away before being burned alive at the stake.
If there was one man who Retra hated above all others, however, it was the one whose wicked face decorated every street corner. The posters were all the same, with WANTED plastered in big bold letters, telling people the same collective story: beware, you are not safe because of this man.
Robin had at first been fascinated with the posters as a preadolescent but steadily lost interest even as the promised reward went up every so often. The mentality had set in that after seven years, the chances of Sir Judith Addington being brought to justice were slim. Having evaded countless searches and being responsible for the deaths of over twenty knights and clergymen, the wayward son of Retra was as slippery as he was dangerous.
Often, Robin wondered what had driven the infamous outlaw in his crimes. He had once been a rising star of the Brotherhood, mentored to Alistair Vanderlar, and close friends with the former grandmaster, Alek Wingcourt. If the old tales were to be believed, some believed that he would have one day become grandmaster.
That had all changed after Judith viciously murdered Sir Alek in Taneia as the protests of the people grew, which officially started the Rebellion. People had taken up arms against each other, fighting in the streets, and flames had consumed the entire town. When the fighting was over, hundreds of people had died. The Rebellion was defeated, but Judith Addington escaped in the aftermath. Some said that while he was still at large, the civil war was still ongoing. The collective fear was that one day he would make a dramatic return and bring the fires of destruction once more.
The two women made their way past the western gates of the Capital to the stables outside. Valevie disappeared inside for a few moments before reappearing with two steeds. She appreciated the fact that Robin knew how to ride, and they set out as the rays of dawn peeked out over the horizon.
It was only a couple of minutes before the Sun was fully risen and hanging in the sky, shining Its radiance upon the countryside. Robin basked in the warmth to ward away the morning chill, stretching herself like a cat. Spring was still in full swing, which meant wintry mornings, and she had always been one to appreciate the heat the Divine Sun ushered in. There was a break in the forests, and green hills dotted the landscape, with the mountains far in the distance.
To Robin, everything was far more spacious here than in the Capital. There was enough room to run through the grass all day, and the blue sky with white clouds hanging overhead was always there to gaze at—unobstructed by tall stone and brick buildings. The scenery was every bit as beautiful to her as the Sunrise. There was a charming peacefulness to it all, a respectful quiet in the air that promised calm introspection.
“I see you’re quite enamored,” Valevie said.
Robin shrugged. “Apologies. I don’t leave the Capital a lot.”
“Clearly. Yet they chose you for this mission.”
Robin shrunk back from the subtle venom in Valevie’s tone. “I-I didn’t ask to come.”
Valevie shook her head. “Neither did I. By Saint Macielle, this is absurd. I don’t know how I’m going to watch your back as well as mine, and it’s ridiculous to put that burden on me. You’re a liability, since you don’t know how to do anything.”
Robin stared Valevie down. “I know scriptures, and all the Tenets, and the names of the Saints and what they did, and—”
“If some brigand confronts you, you can’t use scriptures to save your life.”
“I’ve gone hunting with my father—”
“Oh? Have you actually killed anything before?”
“W-well, no, I didn’t want to. I don’t like shooting his caliver.”
Valevie pinched her nose with an irritated sigh.
“What do you want from me?” Robin asked. “I’m only a novice!”
“I wanted a squire, someone who can actually fight. You’re all but useless.”
Robin frowned, looking away and muttering ruefully, “At least I’m not mean.”
Valevie didn’t reply, letting the silence end their brief argument.
Robin tried her best not to pout at Valevie, finding it difficult to ward away the feeling that she was being blamed for something out of her control. She hadn’t asked to come along on this journey, and now she was regretting accepting it. She could have joined her father and been halfway to the port city of Hieran by now, ready to start a new life away from a country that seemed intent on tearing itself apart.
How could any of them claim to be Sun Heralds when all they did was disregard the teachings of the Saints and act petty toward each other? Robin had heard lectures day in and day out of the Tenets, of being nice to people, and had taken them all to heart. High Priestess Natalia especially preached lessons about being kind and patient, but it seemed Robin was the only one who actually listened.
They continued the rest of the way in silence to a town called Garlan, and Robin vaguely recalled its location on the map her father owned. It was a small way northwest of the Capital and held a decent wooden wall and a plethora of buildings that were made of both wood and stone. It was a far cry from the Capital’s splendor, but it carried a distinct charm that Robin appreciated.
Robin and Valevie continued to be silent with each other as they ate at a local inn before retiring for the night. Their rented room held two separate beds and a table with a chair attached, which Robin appreciated, given that she hadn’t liked the idea of having to share a bed with her strict companion.
As they fell asleep, Robin massaged her tender muscles—wincing every so often. It had been some time since she had last ridden a horse, and it had taken its toll on her lean form. So far, despite it having been only one day, the trip had been unpleasant. It didn’t help that Robin felt as though Valevie was taking out her frustrations on the girl, which she didn’t appreciate in the slightest. If they were going to spend the next nine days together, they would have to learn to get along.
☀
Robin awoke to the morning light assaulting her eyes, for someone had unmercifully thrown open the curtains to the room’s window. Knowing it was likely well beyond time to get up, she could not summon the strength to do so. Her entire body screamed at her in protest, bidding her to enjoy every second of the delightful warmth that provided relief to her aching joints.
After an indulgent moment of rest, Robin turned her head toward Valevie’s bed. It was empty, save for the woman’s pack resting on it.
Glancing around the room in search of the woman yielded nothing. It seemed her traveling companion was missing.
Sitting up in mild alarm, Robin spotted a note on the nearby table that had not been there before. Readying her aching bones for a moment of exertion, she headed for the scrap of paper and read the simple but elegantly written message on it.
“Gathering supplies. I will return before the eighth hour. Do not wander far.”
—V
Robin loosed an exhausted breath, legs protesting the mere motion of standing. She put the note back in its original place before shambling back toward her bed and plopping onto it with a dramatic crash.
Robin lay there on the bed unmoving, surrendering to a state of half sleep, but her snoozing did not last long before the door to the room opened. She looked up from her pillow, unsurprised to see Valevie standing there.
The Dame had changed into a more armored garb from her tunic, wearing a gray gambeson and splinted vambraces. “Sun’s Blessings upon you this morning, Novice,” Valevie said stiffly. “I see you’ve yet to get ready.” Her lips pursed lightly in disapproval. “Just because Sir Alistair gave us extra time does not mean there is an excuse to be lazy.”
Robin internally sighed at the guilt trip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My body hurts from all that riding.”
Valevie looked as though she were about to chide Robin further but stopped herself with a soft snort. The woman strode over to her bed. “Get ready, please. We’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”
Robin noticed the knight was holding a dagger sheathed in a small scabbard with two interlinking belts. Having never seen something like it before, Robin wondered where somebody would wear it.
Valevie gently tossed it towards her. Robin frowned as she grabbed the sheathed weapon. “What’s this?”
“A knife.”
“Oh. It looks . . . nice?” Robin said. She wasn’t sure if Valevie was looking for an opinion.
“I’m glad you like it, since it’s yours.”
Robin paused. Clergy members could not bear arms, signifying their devotion to peace and governance. It was not a grave offense, as some clergy members had used weapons before to defend themselves, but openly wearing a knife showed a desire for violence, which was hardly appropriate for someone garbed in divine cloth.
“I don’t know if I should wear this,” she said, looking at the weapon shyly.
“The Frontier is a dangerous place, Robin.” Valevie’s tone brooked no argument. “I’d rather you have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”
“But I’m not allowed to carry this. What if somebody sees me?”
“Who will see it?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s worn around your thigh, Robin. It’ll be under your robes.”
Robin inspected the scabbard further. Now that she was picturing it, wearing it around one’s leg made sense. While there was still some hesitancy, if they found themselves in danger, she would not be “useless” now.
“All right,” Robin said, “but please don’t tell anybody?”
“Why would I do that? You’d tell them where you got it from, and then I’d be in trouble.” Valevie grabbed her pack. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
“Are we eating here?” The growling in Robin’s stomach was becoming hard to ignore.
“We will. Get ready quick so your food doesn’t get cold,” Valevie said over her shoulder as she exited the room.
Robin curiously gripped the handle of the knife before gently pulling it. The blade itself was rather short, only slightly taller than the distance between her palm and the tip of her middle finger. The handle was simple brown leather and the pommel a flattened, dull shape. It was not all that impressive, but it didn’t need to be. A knife was a knife, no matter how fancily someone dressed it.
Robin placed the weapon back into its sheath with a satisfying click. There was a specific power there that she felt, but she was hesitant to use it. It was not a toy, nor something carelessly handled. It was a tool, grim and necessary, and she prayed to the Sun Above that she would never have to use it.
Chapter Four
The weapon shook in Robin’s hands, and she took deep breaths to steady herself. Her opponent circled her, watching, waiting. It was life or death, and if she made even the tiniest error, it would be costly. But as time passed, the more she doubted herself. No, she needed to act, and it needed to be now.
Robin lunged.
A hand slapped away her extended wrist, deflecting the strike, while another pushed back on her collarbone.
Robin stumbled back from the shove, trying to catch herself on something solid but finding nothing but air. Pain shot through her back as it landed roughly on the dirt before the rest of her body joined in the pathetic pile she had made of herself. However, she hadn’t lost her grip on the wooden stick like the last few times.
“Wrong,” Valevie said.
They had made camp for the evening after a long day of riding. Robin was relieved at the opportunity to rest, yet Valevie stopped her from going to sleep by shoving a short stick in her hand and telling her she was going to teach her how to use her knife. As Robin tasted dirt for what must have been the fifteenth time that evening, she regretted accepting the proposal.
“You’re too slow,” Valevie said, studying Robin. “That makes you easy to counter.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“I know, and as your opponent, I’ve exploited that. If one fighter is tired and the other isn’t, the former will lose nearly every single time unless they’re smart with their movement and positioning.”
“If I wanted to learn how to fight, I would’ve gone to the military academy.”
Valevie shook her head. “This is a cruel world, Robin, full of men who will think you’re an easy target. Is that what you want to be?”
Robin growled out a sigh. “No.”
“Then get up.”
Fighting the burning in her legs and arms, Robin stumbled to her feet. She wouldn’t rest until she landed a hit on the woman, even if the prospect was impossible.
Robin didn’t hesitate this time, trying to catch Valevie off guard with a reckless swipe at the woman’s gambeson.
The knight stepped back from the blow. “You put too much weight into it. You’re not trying to beat me with brute force, you’re trying to cut me. You need to be fast, controlled. That’s how you win fights.”
Robin looked over her wooden stick, trying to imagine how she could get past someone whose guard was up. Valevie was expecting Robin to attack her whenever she defined herself as ready, but what if it came out of nowhere? Robin looked at Valevie, who looked back at her with an expectant frown.
Robin lowered the stick. “Who was your mentor?”
Valevie tilted her head, visibly relaxing her stature. “Sir Herrold Montl—”
Robin lunged.
Valevie’s eyes widened as the novice thrust the wooden stick at her center, moving her torso to the side in an instant and missing the blow by a hair. Her hand grabbed Robin’s wrist and pulled away while her left arm burrowed itself into Robin’s neck.
Little could be processed as her legs were tripped under Valevie’s boots, crashing to the ground. The woman’s knee was on her chest, pinning her in place.
“What was that?” Valevie hissed as the dust flew around them.
“T-tried to surprise you,” Robin stammered out, the weight on her chest growing unbearable.
Valevie frowned before easing the pressure. “You tricked me.” She stood, offering a hand to help Robin up.
“That was the point,” Robin said after catching her breath.
