Chapter Text
Grian was never meant to be anyone important. That wasn’t to say that he was unattractive, or stupid, or dull, he was far from it. No, he had just been unlucky at birth, born to two poor farmers in the midst of a winter war. Unfortunately, during the time that this story takes place, it was near impossible to rise up in the ranks of society. If you were born a peasant, you would die one. That was just how the world worked back then.
Grian had accepted this fact shortly after he became aware of it. In his mind, there was no point in wasting time thinking about it, and while he often went to bed hungry and cold, he didn’t feel as though he had a particularly difficult life. In fact, if you asked him, he would probably tell you that he enjoyed it. After all, the first eighteen of his years were spent with his four best friends in all the world.
Their names were Pearl, Jimmy (though they all called him Timmy, a joke they had come up with only a short time after they’d learned what a name was), Martyn, and BigB (that was not his real name, but his real name was long and boring and they had decided to shorten it). They were Grian’s everything.
They would spend hours at a time running through the fields with the herding dogs and making mud pies in the garden. One would think that as they got older, they would grow apart, as friendships often do with time, however, quite the opposite happened with these five friends. While they didn’t make mud pies anymore, they still found a significant amount of enjoyment in chasing each other through the fields, and there were plenty of other exciting activities to do around the small town they lived in.
But of course, all good things must come to an end, and it was on the evening of Martyn’s eighteenth birthday that things started to go a bit…wrong.
“I bet you five copper that I can beat you to the old oak!” Jimmy crowed, already running towards it before anyone else had the opportunity to take him up on it. This was a common occurrence between them, and of course, the correct response was to immediately try and pass him up. None of them did, Jimmy had always been the fastest out of all of them, but it was still fun. They skidded to a halt around the tree, out of breath but still laughing, and that was when they heard the hoofbeats.
They were not the hoofbeats of an old mare or a workhorse, not the steady clop of a donkey you could find in nearly every farming village or town. Anyone who grew up on a farm could tell that this was no ordinary horse without the need to look at it, because the sound of its horseshoes (and it had horseshoes) was richer than any standard copper or steel. It was something much richer.
The five companions whipped around, searching for the source of the hoofbeats, and it didn’t take very long for them to locate it. Trotting down the dusty path through the center of the village was a beautiful white horse, the saddle atop it lined with gold, and the man atop that even more richly decorated.
He was a nobleman, that was much clear even from a distance, but he also seemed young. Far too young to be out riding without a company. He wore a cloak fashioned out of the finest cloth, and while the richest of the lands whispered and murmured of how fabulous it was, every peasant agreed that it looked rather like a patch of moss had decided to grow atop him. He was adorned with golden jewelry aplenty, the most prominent being a fine clock dangling from a chain around his neck, glistening in the setting sun. His eyes were large and brown, rather like a cow’s, and they were looking directly at the small birthday gathering beneath the tree.
They stared back, unsure of what the proper custom was. Did they bow? Did they curtsey? Or was that reserved for the king? The only reasonable solution was to simply stand there and wait for the nobleman to approach, so that was what they did. They stood and waited.
“Hear ye, hear ye.” The nobleman declared, pulling his horse to a stop in front of them. “Do you know who I am?”
The five peasants exchanged looks with each other, silently asking if any of them knew who this mossy young noble was. None of them did, they probably wouldn’t recognize if the king himself walked up to them, as they were so far from his castle that very few people knew what he looked like.
Finally, Martyn stepped forward, lifting his chin determinedly. “No sir, I’m afraid we do not know who you are, as word of you has not travelled this far.”
The nobleman narrowed his eyes at them from atop his horse. “Well, I am the King’s advisor, his right hand man and most trusted man in the kingdom besides his majesty.”
“The Clock.” Pearl blurted, eyes lingering on the timepiece around his neck. “You’re the Clock.”
The Clock was the name that the poor folk of the kingdom had given the King’s advisor. No one really knew why he was given that name, it was just something that had been uttered once and stuck like glue. At first, the advisor had been adamant against the name, declaring it disrespectful, but there was really nothing he could do about it, and so the name remained.
“So I’ve been called.” The Clock wrinkled his nose, then reached into a satchel by his side, pulling out a scroll. “I am here to collect the brightest youth of this village and take them to the king’s palace. Who among you is eighteen years old?”
Once again, the five friends exchanged looks, and once again, Martyn spoke up. “I am, sir. Today is my birthday.”
“And me as well.” BigB stepped forward to join him.
“The rest aren’t eighteen yet.” Martyn glanced back at Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy, all watching silently.
“Excellent.” The Clock checked his scroll, then back at them. “You are Martyn Littlewood and Bartholomew Esstee the 4th?”
“BigB.” BigB corrected. “But yes, that is my full name.”
“Mine as well.” Martyn set his jaw, trying not to look scared in front of his friends. He was the second oldest, he was supposed to be a protector and keep them safe, and part of that was being the toughest thing around. He wasn’t going to let the others see that he was afraid of what was happening.
“Good, good.” The Clock nodded. “You have two days to gather your things. You will need to find yourself a mount. We set off at dawn on the third day, I shall meet you by this tree to take you to the palace.”
“Woah, hang on.” Martyn protested. “I never said I would go with you.”
“Me neither.” BigB agreed.
“Did I say you had a choice?” The Clock asked, sitting up straighter on his horse to show that he was taller than them, more powerful. He was in charge here, not them. “No. The King has decreed that all the youth of age be gathered at his palace for him to decide whether or not they are worthy of his court. You might return home immediately. You might not. But you will not argue with me, lest you face the King’s wrath.”
Grian shoved his way to the front, a ball of rage in his stomach. He hadn’t done much during this entire conversation except watch, but now he was ready to do something. He was the smallest out of the five of them, but he also burned the brightest, the most defiant and outgoing.
“They aren’t going anywhere.”
“You’ll speak when spoken to.” The Clock glared down at him. “Your friends are coming with me, per order from the King.”
“But what if they don’t want to serve on the King’s court?” Pearl stepped up as well, holding her chin high, not intimidated at all by the second most powerful man in the kingdom. “They could easily sabotage his plans.”
“We have fail safes in place for that.” The Clock replied. “Now enough questions. I am not here to be interrogated by peasants. The two of you which are of age will meet me here in three days' time at dawn, and if you do not, there will be consequences.”
And with that, the advisor tugged on his horse’s reins and trotted away into the setting sun.
Immediately, outraged cries filled the air around the tree, overlapping and overflowing into tears.
“He can’t have you!”
“Who will help your family with the farm?”
“You’re ours, not the King’s!”
“He can’t just force you to go with them, it isn’t right!”
“It isn’t fair, that’s what it is.”
“Or right.”
“Or right.”
“We can’t go along with this!”
It took several minutes for the anger to die down and be replaced by dread and sorrow. They sat around the old oak together, silently spending their now limited time mourning what would no doubt be the loss of their friendship, due to the distance. They had no way of sending mail (it didn’t exist back then) and no money or supplies to make the journey to the palace on their own to visit.
If Martyn and BigB didn’t get turned down by the King, it was likely that they would never see each other again. So with only two days left in each other’s company, they spent every second together. They did their best to pretend that the end was far away and tried to enjoy the old games that they had always loved playing together, but the threat of their friendship falling apart always loomed in the background.
On the evening before the eldest were to depart, the five of them laid out in a field, heads arranged in a circle, staring up at the stars. They pointed out constellations they knew and made up their own, each more absurd than the last, until they were doubled over with laughter and begging for each other to stop so that they could breathe.
At about midnight, when they had settled down a bit more and were getting ready to make their way home, Martyn spoke up, his voice softer than it had been when they were making jokes.
“I’m gonna miss you guys. No matter what happens, we’re staying friends, alright? Doesn’t matter if the King himself orders me to execute you, I will stand by your side.”
“The same goes for me.” BigB added. “If the King tries to get me to turn on you, I will just say no and walk out. They aren’t gonna get me to go against you.”
“Good.” Jimmy nodded, his voice firm. “And we won’t do anything against you guys either. You’re part of the family now.”
“We’ll miss you both.” Pearl rolled over to face them, and they all did the same, turning away from the stars to see each other properly. “We need to make a pact or something, so that we stay together forever, alright?”
“Here.” Grian reached into his pocket, pulling out the blue and red yarn he had left over from helping his mother knit a sweater for the colder days. Carefully, he divided it into five even pieces and tied one around each person’s wrist. He had to get help from Pearl to tie his own, but once she was done, they all had matching yarn bracelets around their wrists.
“There. Now we can’t forget each other.” Grian declared. “No one is allowed to take these off, ever.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy nodded along with him. “No getting rid of the bracelets. If it gets broken, put it in a locket or something. But you can’t get rid of it.”
“Yes sir!” Martyn gave him a sloppy salute, a sad smile on his face. “I won’t forget you guys.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come back as soon as I can with presents.” BigB promised. “You won’t be able to forget me.”
“Bye guys.” Grian hugged them both, taking a second to memorize the feeling of their arms around him, not knowing when the next time he might have the opportunity would be. “Be safe.”
“We’ll see you in a few weeks.” Pearl declared after she’d given them both hugs. “You’ll be back here before you know it.”
“Bye boys, I’ll have a pie ready at home for you guys!” Jimmy grinned, referencing an old joke that they had come up with years before while playing war in the forest. In the game, Martyn had promised he would return shortly and in one piece, and he had, much sooner than anyone had predicted. Jimmy immediately made a mud pie out of puddle and handed it to him, declaring it to be his coming home present.
The joke felt much more solemn now that it was real.
They went to bed with heavy hearts, none of them getting much sleep as they thought about what the future might look like. When the sun peeked over the horizon, all of them got out of bed and went to the old oak, Martyn and BigB each carrying a small bag with their belongings and riding the oldest mares from their farm. Grian, Pearl, and Jimmy watched as the Clock arrived to take them away, his horse much grander than the others, his attire making the two peasant boys look small and insignificant.
They exchanged a final goodbye with plenty of tears, and just like that, Martyn and BigB were being led away, out of their lives for what could very well have been forever.
That was the first event that rocked Grian’s life, shifting him away from being just another peasant. It would not be the last.