Chương 49: Chapter 32: The Choice - Part I

The wind shifts across the hillside. For a few moments after his answer, neither of us speaks. Far below, the road continues winding toward Fallowspire while farmers and merchants go about their day entirely unaware that the future of a grove is currently being debated atop a patch of windblown grass. Garrick eventually breaks the silence.

"You do realize you've explained absolutely none of this." I blink, "What do you mean?" The Guard Captain gestures vaguely between me, the staff and presumably, the entirety of the grove, "This." I pause.

"You asked me to become the grove's sword."

"Yes."

"What does that actually mean?" The question hangs between us. Unfortunately, it is also a very good question.

"I was hoping to figure that part out later." Garrick stares at me. I stare back and the silence stretches.

"That's your plan?"

"One of them."

"Please tell me you have another."

"I do." His expression remains unchanged, "What is it?"

"Figure it out sooner." The look he gives me suggests neither answer inspires confidence. I clear my throat, "In my defense, Grovekeepers aren't exactly common anymore."

"In your defense," Garrick replies, "you seem to have become one entirely by accident."

"That is a gross oversimplification."

"It is an accurate description." Before I can formulate a response, Garrick continues, "Kaelen, I've spent enough years around you to know when you've already made up your mind." The amusement leaves his voice, "What I'm trying to understand is why." I rest both hands atop Vael's staff. The answer is surprisingly simple, "Because you're already doing it." That finally earns his full attention.

"What?"

"You protect the city." I gesture toward Fallowspire below.

"You protect the people living inside it." Then I turn slightly.

"And that in turn protects the grove." Garrick frowns, "That isn't exactly unique."

"No." I shake my head.

"But consistency is." The Guard Captain remains silent, allowing me to continue.

"When the city needed someone to stand watch, you were there.

"When monsters approached the walls, you were there. When people started questioning whether the grove belonged in Fallowspire..." I shrug.

"You were there." The wind moves through the grass between us as Garrick studies the valley below, "I was doing my job."

"Exactly." The answer leaves me immediately, "That is the entire point. Most people protect things because they have to. You protect them because it never occurs to you not to." For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Garrick exhales slowly.

"Fine." I raise an eyebrow, "Fine?"

"If I agreed." The next words are careful and deliberate.

"If I became this Grove Sword of yours." he pauses before continuing.

"What exactly would I gain from it?" Now we're getting to the heart of it. I find myself smiling faintly.

"That depends." His eyes narrow immediately, "I dislike that answer already." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Most people do."

"Depends on what?" I adjust my grip on the staff, "The grove isn't the only source of power in the world." That earns his attention. I continue.

"Have you heard about knights?" The word leaves me quietly. Garrick's expression changes. The change is subtle enough that someone else might have missed it. I do not. The moment the word leaves my mouth, Garrick's expression shifts. Not much. A tightening around the eyes. A slight stillness settling into his posture. The sort of reaction a man gives when he unexpectedly finds himself standing near an old wound. I speak before he can respond, "I take it you know about them."

"Everyone knows about them," Garrick replies. The answer comes too quickly. I wait for more. The wind moves through the hillside, carrying the scent of grass and distant forests. Below us, a wagon crawls along the road toward Fallowspire, little more than a speck from this distance. Eventually, Garrick exhales through his nose.

"Some of us more than others." I remain silent. After a few moments, he shakes his head.

"I spent years chasing Knighthood." The admission catches me slightly off guard. I had never heard him mention it before. Garrick notices the look.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That expression says otherwise." I glance toward him, "You never mentioned it."

"There wasn't much to mention." His gaze drifts toward the valley below, "When I was younger, I thought I'd eventually join one of the knightly orders." The statement sounds oddly ordinary coming from him. Perhaps because he says it without bitterness. Like someone discussing a road he once considered taking before choosing another.

"So, you wanted to become a knight."

"I did." The answer is simple and certain. For a moment, I find myself trying to imagine Garrick several years younger, less experienced and less weathered. Somehow the image refuses to cooperate.

"I assume there is a reason you didn't." A faint snort escapes him, "There usually is, isn't it." The breeze catches the ends of his cloak as he folds his arms.

"Training wasn't the problem. Discipline wasn't the problem either."

"Then what was?" Garrick reaches down and picks up a loose stone resting near his boot. He turns it once between his fingers before tossing it down the hillside.

"Mana." The single word falls flat between us. I frown.

"Mana?"

"You sound surprised."

"A little." That earns a dry look, "I assure you, the instructors were significantly less surprised." I blink. Then, despite myself, laugh. The corner of his mouth twitches, only briefly.

"The first thing every prospective knight learns," Garrick continues, "is that skill alone isn't enough." His voice settles into a measured rhythm, not unlike someone reciting a lesson learned long ago.

"A soldier can train his body." He extends one finger.

"Strength." A second finger joins the first.

"Discipline." Then a third.

"Experience." His hand closes.

"But eventually every knight reaches a point where steel alone stops being enough." I find myself listening carefully. This is the first time Garrick has spoken about it.

"The stronger creatures become, the less ordinary weapons matter." His gaze drifts toward the distant forests.

"A skilled swordsman can kill a wolf." I nod.

"A great swordsman can kill ten." Another pause.

"A knight can kill things that aren't supposed to care about swords." The memory of the Water Guardian beneath the city surfaces immediately. Garrick notices the realization.

"Exactly." For a moment, neither of us speaks. The implications settle naturally into place, "Mana."

"Mana," Garrick agrees.

"The body learns to carry it, shape it, direct it." His hand closes around an invisible hilt, "Aura." The unfamiliar word hangs in the air. I have heard it before but rarely. Usually from traveling mercenaries boasting in taverns.

"Most people think aura is some sort of spell," I say. Garrick shakes his head, "It isn't."

"What is it?"

"Intent given form, mana becoming tangible." I raise an eyebrow, "That sounds suspiciously like something an instructor told you."

"It is exactly something an instructor told me." The answer comes without hesitation and I find myself smiling. For reasons I cannot entirely explain, the admission makes the story feel more real. The Guard Captain notices.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look amused."

"I wasn't aware I was."

"You are." Unfortunately, he is correct. The smile eventually fades.

"How far did you get?" The question leaves me before I can stop it. Garrick's gaze returns to the valley. Far below, the wagon has nearly disappeared from sight.

"Far enough." Something in his tone tells me the answer is incomplete, so I wait. After a while, he continues.

"Far enough to learn the basics. Far enough to learn how mana, moves through the body." He pauses briefly before continuing.

"Far enough to watch others succeed." I already know how this story ends. Even before he says it.

"I never managed it." The words carry no self-pity, only fact.

"The instructors tested affinity." His shoulders rise slightly before settling again, "I had very little." The statement feels strangely inadequate. As though it should explain everything. Apparently, it does.

"You can sense mana now," I point out.

"Only it is present in high density. Only because I've spent decades practicing almost every day to make myself sense the miniscule amount I can. Most people possess some degree of affinity. Mine simply wasn't enough." The silence that follows feels heavier than the previous ones. I think about the man standing beside me. The years of training, the effort, the discipline. Then the realization that none of it had been enough. Not because he lacked determination, because he lacked something he could never train.

Finally, I understand why the word knight changed his expression.

"That must have been difficult." Garrick considers the question, then shrugs, "It was." The answer arrives so simply that it somehow carries more weight than any elaborate explanation could have. The wind shifts again. For several moments, neither of us speaks. Then Garrick glances toward me.

"So let me see if I've understood this correctly." I already know, I am going to dislike where this is going. His eyes narrow slightly.

"You are telling me that if I agree to become this Grove Knight of yours-" The title sounds strange spoken aloud for the first time. Yet somehow neither of us questions it.

"-the grove might solve a problem I've spent most of my life failing to solve." I open my mouth, then close it again because when he phrases it that way, it sounds considerably more absurd than it had inside my own head. Garrick watches me, waiting, patiently. The way a hunter watches a trapped animal decide which direction it intends to run. Finally, I sigh.

"Possibly." His stare does not change, "Possibly?"

"I am still figuring parts of this out."

"Remarkably reassuring."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

"No," Garrick shakes his head, "That was sarcasm."

"I am aware."

"Good." The conversation falls silent once more as we resume walking. This time, however, the silence feels different. As though something important has finally been placed upon the table between us, examined, acknowledged and found worthy of consideration.