Chapter Text
You pushed yourself onto your tip-toes. The wood beneath your feet was warmed by the fire in the nearby hearth, and worn down with time. Your eyes barely reached over the tabletop. What miniscule strength you had in your arms aided in the effort, pulling you upward to peer even an inch more over the top.
Your mother chuckled at your efforts. From across the table, she had watched as you wandered from your bedroom, bright-eyed and eager for breakfast. With a smile on her face, she went back to ladling porridge into three bowls. Nimble fingers carefully laid down slices of wild strawberries, adjusting them all until it was perfect. Your stomach grumbled with hunger.
Mother wiped her fingers on a cloth at her waist. Mirthful eyes landed back on you. Finally, she pushed a bowl over to your chair. You wasted no time crawling into the seat and digging into the meal. She chided you softly on your manners, reminding you to use a spoon to eat rather than your hands.
She disappeared through the doorway to give Father his bowl. You almost finished eating by the time she came back inside, face creased with worry. She continued to smile, however, hiding whatever was troubling her.
After breakfast, you got dressed and ran outside into the mid-morning sun to help in the garden. Cold dirt pressed into your knees as you helped your father pull weeds. Sometimes, you wouldn’t be strong enough to rip the unwanted growths from the earth. Wordlessly, as if he always somehow knew, Father swooped in and plucked them out easily.
After weeding, you and Father would go to the well in the center of town. He carried both empty buckets there, but you always carried one sloshing bucket full of water back. Even if you did have to carry it with both hands, and even if water spilled over the sides onto the street.
Neighbors made way as you passed, giving you words of encouragement all the while. Sometimes they would stop Father for a minute to chat. You never really understood what it was they spoke about. Sometimes they would talk about an emperor, or pests that ate their crops. More frequently, they began talking about snakes. You’d never seen a snake before. You hoped you could see one, one day.
With a scoop, you and Father watered the fruits, herbs, and vegetables. You poured water over the base of the plants and watched the dirt soak it up. With wide eyes and a racing heart, you stared in awe as the dirt began shifting. You called your father over, but he just watched in amusement as a frog popped out from under the wet dirt.
As you busied yourself trying to catch the slippery creature, he tended to the farm horse. It was a big horse - much bigger than you - with huge feet and long hair around her ankles. According to your mother, you’d been really scared of it when they first got her. You cried and hid behind their legs, watching the behemoth to see if it would attack you. Now you weren’t as afraid. Sometimes, if you had extra, Father would let you feed her carrots, and she would nudge you with her big snout.
When you caught the frog, Father would tell you to head inside for lunch. Mother didn’t like frogs. You had to let it go.
Mother would already have food prepared. Warm bread that she made herself, sliced and with cheese from the market to go with it. Sometimes there would be fruit with it, or even a bit of fish. She would make sure you washed your hands before you could eat, though, especially if you caught a frog beforehand. She told you once that her cousin would play with frogs and then eat, and she got poisoned and died. It wasn’t enough to scare you from playing with the things, but you didn’t argue as much about washing your hands.
You’d look out the window as you ate. Or, sometimes the door would be propped open and you could look out into the street. Neighbors bustled about in the midday sun. Women washed and hung up laundry. Some worked with looms or spun their own yarn. Men tended to fields, built weapons and tools, or crafted tanned hides into gloves and aprons. They all passed through the village with grins, greetings, and pride in their work.
The village didn’t have much flora aside from the crops people grew. The grounds were formed with uneven dirt or slimy mud, with boots, horse prints, and cart wheels all leaving their marks in the roads. A little patch of grass sprouted in here and there, but it was trampled out within a week.
There was, however, one tree. It wasn’t actually within the borders of the town at all. No, if it had been, it would have been killed off. Rather, it stood up on a hill, visible from the kitchen window. There was forest spread out behind it. Dead or dying grasses and weeds flooded the field before it, in between your house and the oak. But the brown grass never touched that hill. As soon as the earth began sloping upward, the grass was lush and green. You vowed to one day leave the walls of the village, climb that hill, and see that tree up close.
One day.
You finished eating and climbed down from your chair. Mother put a plate in your hand, full of the same thing you’d just eaten, and told you to bring it out to your father. Father took it, ruffled your hair, and sat in a chair propped up against the house while he ate. He never said what he looked at. Your best guess was that he people watched just like you. Or maybe he, too, thought about seeing that great big oak tree up close.
You sat by the fire with your mother. Usually you would unravel and re-roll her balls of yarn back together. More recently, she helped you learn how to sew. She would pass you a shirt or pair of pants with a hole in them and show you how to thread a needle. She’d show you how to stitch up the hole so the thread was barely noticeable. When you inevitably poked your fingers with the sharp needle, she would kiss the boo-boo with a gentle chide to be more careful.
To pass the time, she would ask you about your morning. You would ramble on and on about the weeds and plants, how you carried a full bucket all by yourself, and the little critters you saw. If you didn’t know what they were called, she was always patient as you explained what they looked like so she could provide the name for you. Today you saw a ladybug, a cricket, and a spider. She already knew about the frog.
As the sun went down, Father stopped tending to the garden and animals. He would come inside, grab a bow and a quiver of arrows, and go off hunting in the woods. You asked once if he went by the hill. He just shook his head and said there were too many monsters over that way.
He would come back with fresh-caught game, if he was lucky. This time he carried a large doe across his shoulders. If the weight ached his back and creaked his bones, he didn’t complain.
Your parents worked together to prepare the meat from the catch. Father would skin it and carve out the meat. Mother would make a stew and show him where to hang up the pelt. You weren’t old enough to help out. Mother said she didn’t want you watching, either. Instead, while they cooked, you would go to your room and finish up fixing the clothes.
You’d all eat together once it was ready. Your tiny legs never reached the floor; they kicked freely under the table, almost but not quite scraping the wooden boards. Mother and Father spoke of the world. You didn’t understand. The conversation would slowly make its way to the neighbors and their lives. You understood some things, but other things went right over your head.
You finished your stew before they did. Your eyes drooped with exhaustion as your belly was filled. They would pause in their meals to carry you to your room. Father laid you down, but Mother tucked you in. They both kissed your forehead and blew out the candles around your room. The door creaked when it closed behind them.
You’d wake up tomorrow and begin the cycle all over again. It was perfect. The world was bright, new, and beautiful. Your hands had yet to form calluses. Your eyes were yet to dim with the harsh realities of the world.
That was all behind you now.
-
Cold nipped at your fingers and nose, intensifying as a breeze brushed past. You did not let it distract you.
The pendulums before you danced in a methodical tango. The spikes protruding from the wood were dulled with blood, and no longer glinted in the midday sun. Your piercing yellow eyes followed their movements, searching for an opening, timing exactly when they reached their zeniths.
“C’mon, Rat, we don’t have all day!” You cursed your brother. Your heart jumped with anxiety.
You would not allow yourself to fall again.
As the first pendulum reached its highest point to your left, you jumped through the gap. You felt the woosh of the second one as it passed mere inches from your face. You did not allow your feet to become unsteady on the unbalanced wooden beam beneath you.
The second and third reached their peaks. You seized the opportunity and leapt past both onto the next platform. In your eagerness, you almost got scratched in the face by the rotating wooden spikes before you.
You ducked down and passed through the gaps in between the layers. Easy. You let out a shaky breath as you turned to the pegs in the wall. The wood was worn down over excessive use, almost smooth now. You could slip and fall several feet into the hard concrete below- No. Focus.
With a deep breath in, you sprinted across the pegs. You nearly lost your balance on one, but pushed through to the next platform, where you almost skidded off the edge from your momentum.
“You’re almost there!” your brother called out again. You risked a glance down at him. Your other siblings had also gathered around, ready to watch you finally pass this training exercise, or fall flat once again. “Just don’t fall on your arse!”
Oh, you were so strangling him when you got down from here.
You jumped onto the swinging platform and stood at the front edge. You kept your knees loose, staying level with the motion of the swing.
Almost there.
Almost there.
The swing reached its peak, and you leapt for the ropes. Cold metal brushed your fingertips as gravity took hold. With barely a second to react, you curled into yourself, and landed on the hard concrete.
Disappointed sighs filled the courtyard as people left, until the only people left were you and your closest sibling.
Stuldweck leaned over your body, spread out on the ground. You looked past him to the sky, repetitively revealed and hidden as the swing shifted. He raised an eyebrow.
“Gonna get off the ground anytime soon, Rat?”
“No,” you sighed. “I’m just going to decompose, right here. Take care of Oalvir in my absence.”
He chuckled low and warm. “He’d be kicked out within a day.”
A slight grin found your lips. “Probably.”
Stuldweck held out a hand. You took it without further delay. With strength twice as great as your own, he lifted you back to your feet and slapped your back. “You gave it your best shot, Rat. Nothing else for it.”
“I was so close, Stul. So close! I touched the rings this time! I was right there!” You walked side by side with your brother as he guided you out of the courtyard and through the walls of Gorthur Gvaed - the Viper School. You grumbled, “And I fucked it up. Again.”
“You’ll get it soon!”
Stuldweck was your beacon of light in this shitty castle. Ever since you were little kids, he looked after you. You were the weakest of the bunch. The mages were surprised when you woke from the Trial of Grasses at all, and yet you still had to help dispose of the bodies of the dozens others who did not make it. Stul, arguably the strongest of the Adepts, kept you sane.
“How many tries did it take me?” he asked rhetorically. “Thirty-eight! You’re only at - What? - 19? And you’re faster than anybody else!”
“Because I’m a rat,” you teased. The nickname was given to you affectionately when you were younger. Because you were small and weak, your brothers would all say you could be eaten by a snake in one bite, like a sickly little rat. As you grew, however, it morphed into being more agile and sneaky than the rest.
He slung his arm around your neck, pulling you into a playful hug. “Exactly!” You shoved him off, laughing, as you both stumbled through the Keep. “And when you graduate, you'll be the best Viper around!”
A swell of emotion welled in your chest. It was warm and airy. Your smile became more muted as you looked at him. “You really think so?”
He smiled, genuinely. It was not a crooked smirk with teeth. His eyes were not playful or withholding truths in their depths. His dark skin crinkled around his mouth, and softened around his eyes. “Of course I do.”
Like a gas lighting aflame, the emotion in your chest burst into relief and joy. Before the soft moment between siblings could linger, he ruffled your hair and shoved your face away. “C’mon, Rat, you’re on kitchen duty.”
You chuckled and shoved him back. “Arsehole!”
-
“You’ve been creeping around all morning,” you pointed out. Stuldweck paused in the middle of dunking his bread in some warm broth, like a child caught breaking something. “Care to tell me why?”
He grinned knowingly. “You’ll see.”
You glanced to another table at the front of the banquet hall, filled from end to end with the mentors of the school. The Grandmaster, Ivar Evil-Eye, was engrossed in an ancient scroll, oblivious to the goings on before him. He was always like that. The mentors were truly the ones doing the heavy lifting, training students and doling out harsh punishments.
Lingering on the mentors a moment longer, searching for any hint they could be listening, you learned over the table and spoke in a hushed voice. “Is it another prank? Oalvir told me he had something in the works - is it that?”
Stul chuckled as he shook his head. You sat back on the bench with a huff.
“What is it then?” you demanded.
“If you get through the obstacle course - unharmed - I’ll show you. Until then,” he made a motion of zipping his lips together, “not a word about it.”
Two sets of yellow eyes stared into each other. You squinted, studying his face for any microexpressions. Though, of course, you’d been trained well not to give anything away under pressure. It was not training one so lightly forgot.
Admitting defeat, you heaved a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go then!”
Startled, he dropped his chunk of bread into his broth. “Now? You haven’t even finished eating!”
“I’ve had enough; I need to know what you’re hiding! So, c’mon, let’s go.”
You were already standing, pushing your bowl and plate away as all eyes became fixed on the sudden movement. Stuldweck stuttered, gesturing at his own food. “Take it with you! And try not to choke when I land on that final platform.”
-
Cold air brushed your cheeks once again as you stood at the starting line. Unsurprisingly, the whole school decided lunch was not as interesting as watching you fall on your arse would be. Even the Grandmaster set his scroll down in favor of joining the crowd.
Everyone could hear the way your heart stuttered under the scrutinizing gazes of your siblings. It filled your ears. Your hands became clammy.
No. Don’t panic. Stay focused. You trained for this - you can do it.
Your eyes shifted from the swinging pendulums before you to the crowd. Up front, arms crossed and brow furrowed, stood Stuldweck. He nodded assuringly to you. Almost as quiet as a mouse, his voice found your ears.
“You’ve got this, Rat.”
It was all you needed to hear.
You looked ahead once more. The cold air of the mountain valley dried the back of your throat. The pendulums taunted you with their repetitive dance. Through them, you saw the rusted rings. You weren’t going to let them slip through your fingers again. Not this time.
With a speed never before seen within these damned walls, you weaved through the pendulums and spinning wooden spikes. You hardly paused at all before sprinting up the pegs on the wall and turning sharply onto the swinging platform.
And now, the rings. You remembered last time, when your fingers brushed the cool metal as you fell to the hard stone floor below. Not this time.
Time seemed to slow as the swing neared your target. The nervous, short breaths of your siblings, the subtle scuff of boots against the stone as Ivar and Stuldweck stepped forward, the vultures and hawks screeching in the distance - it all fell on deaf ears. You braced yourself.
And then you jumped.
Only this time, you caught the rings and held on with a death grip. Your arms pulled on your sockets as your body weight listened to gravity’s beckoning call. You would not fall into her siren’s trap this time. You swung your legs back and followed through with the momentum as you were propelled forward, letting go of the rings at the forward peak of your swing. With a hard thud, you landed on the final platform.
Silence. Then, the cheers of your brothers was all you could hear.
Your heart raced with adrenaline as you climbed down the ladder, only to be swarmed with arms slung over your shoulders and pats on the back and knuckles digging into the crown of your head. Congratulations were thrown around like rice at a wedding. All you could do was smile and breathlessly chuckle like a madman.
As the commotion settled and your siblings departed to return to their now-cold meals, you turned to Stul, who embraced you with powerful arms. “Do I get to see what you’ve been up to now?” you asked.
He laughed next to your ear before he roughly pulled away to drag you back into the Keep and through the halls. To your surprise, he did not drag you to his quarters or even back to the banquet hall. Instead, he pulled you through to the front of the School, and through the grand front doors to the courtyard. He stopped you in the center of the barren yard, but moved toward the empty stables.
“I wanted to do something special for your eventual success,” he began. You couldn’t stop looking at the hand he had resting on a stall door. “So, I pulled a couple of strings and…” He took a breath. Was he nervous? He smiled. “Well, here you go!”
In one fluid motion, he pushed the sliding door out of the way. Standing in the strewn hay upon wobbly legs, was a foal. The small horse snorted and backed away from the door. He was… You had no words to describe the feeling within you. Adoration? Awe? Elation?
The colt watched cautiously as you slowly stepped forward. His coat was light and well-groomed, with grey mottling all down his body, and dark flowing hair. You knelt at the doorway. After a moment, the horse neared.
“You…” You swallowed, still in disbelief. “You got me a horse?”
“Well, a foal, yeah.” You could hear the wide grin in his voice. “What’re you gonna name him?”
The colt stepped forward until it was almost face-to-face with you. He watched and waited to see if you would do anything. You made sure he saw your hand as you slowly raised it up. When he did not react or jump away, you pet the soft coat along his neck. He snorted at the gentle contact.
“Bayard,” you decided. “I’ll call him Bayard.”
Stul snorted at the name. “Are you sure? You don’t want to call him Ard Feainn or something?”
You scoffed, leveling him with an annoyed stare. “I didn’t think you were so big on religion,” you teased.
“It’s a more powerful name than Bayard,” he mocked, albeit playfully. He held his arms upward in dramatic fashion. “The Great Sun! As mighty a steed as the Continent has ever witnessed!”
You hit his leg, causing him to laugh and drop his arms. The youngling horse became startled at the sudden movement and scampered back into the stall.
“Alright! Alright! Bayard it is then.” Stul crossed his arms and leaned against the door. He sighed pensively. “Just one more trial and we’re out of here.”
Oh the thought of being free from these hallowed halls - it caused your heart to flutter and yearn for the outside world. It was so rarely that any Adept could leave the school, even to hunt for game. The only times you set foot on real dirt ground was for monster training. And even then, you were not allowed to stray far.
One final test to deem you worthy, and you would be set loose on the world. You could accept real contracts, interact with real people, fight real monsters! Your head spun just imagining it.
“Does anybody know what the final trial is?” you frowned, looking up at your brother for answers.
He thought for a moment, a frown tugging his features down, before shaking his head. “No idea. I’ll try asking Oalvir - that nitwit can figure anything out.” He noticed the frown taking over your previously joyous expression. “Hey,” he propped a hand on your shoulder, “don’t worry about it. You’ll do great no matter what it is.”
You managed a weak smile. “You will, too, Stul. We’ll make it out of here together - or not at all.”