Armour

Chapter 2: Training With Chester

“Tell me, Ian,” Chester intoned with solemn gravity, “have you ever wielded a sword?”

“I cannot claim that I have,” I admitted, my voice tinged with humility. “Though I am well acquainted with a pickaxe,” I added, as though such tools were kin.

A wry smile flickered across Chester’s lips. “The crafts of mining and swordplay share little kinship, I assure you. Permit me to instruct you. Take up a blade and strike at me—without hesitation.”

“But—” I began, only to be silenced by the unwavering command in his gaze.

“Do it,” he insisted, impatience glinting in his eyes.

Obediently, I grasped a steel sword resting in the grass and swung at him with all the strength I could muster. In a flash, Chester parried my blow, and I found myself unceremoniously sprawled upon my back, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“First lesson,” he declared, a mocking chuckle escaping him, “always assess your adversary ere you make a move.”

Determined, I rose and attempted a higher strike, but Chester turned it aside with effortless grace. I stared in disbelief, unable to fathom how he had so deftly thwarted my attack. The question burned in my mind.

“Lesson the second: seek the openings in your opponent’s guard,” he instructed.

As his gaze dropped, I seized the opportunity and struck at his chest. He toppled backward, yet seemed more pleased than wounded.

“Excellent! You are swift to grasp the rudiments of combat. Tell me, are you skilled with an axe?” he asked, his tone shifting.

“Only in the splitting of firewood,” I confessed, disappointment coloring my words.

“You must also learn to defend against axes,” he cautioned, concern shadowing his features.

“Lend me your shield,” I requested boldly. To my surprise, he obliged, passing the heavy object into my hands. I marveled at its weight, for never before had I borne such a burden. Upon its surface was emblazoned the image of a serpent, its fangs bared in perpetual menace, poised to strike at any who dared approach.

“You had best know how to wield that, Ian!” Oswald called out, his voice edged with apprehension. In truth, I had quite forgotten his presence until that very moment.

“Oh, I do not,” I admitted, a nervous laugh escaping me. Chester’s expression soured at my response.

“Ian…” he said, annoyance clear in his tone.

“I shall do my utmost to block your blows,” I promised.

“If you do not, something—or someone—will surely devour you,” Oswald warned sternly.

“Someone?” I echoed, anxiety tightening my chest.

“You have heard of the cannibal tribes of Moroj, have you not?” he asked in a hushed voice, deepening my unease.

I nodded, swallowing hard. The tales of those tribes had haunted my childhood, and I had always been cautioned never to cross their path.

“I have indeed,” I managed.

“If you wish to avoid such a fate, then wield your shield with purpose,” Chester said, his countenance devoid of mirth.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, striving for calm.

“Good man. When we are finished here, I shall introduce you to the others,” he said, clapping me on the back.

“Let us proceed!” I exclaimed, pride swelling within me. My priest had oft warned that pride would be my undoing if left unchecked—a wise man, gone too soon. But that is a tale for another time.

Chester hefted a battleaxe and brought it down upon my shield with Herculean force.

“By the gods, must you strike so fiercely?” I cried out in alarm.

“Tell that to the Moroj when they are carving you into a thousand pieces!” he retorted, reminding me of the gravity of my training. He was right; I could not expect mercy from my foes.

“Again,” I said, steeling myself.

This time, his blow was lighter, though I could sense he withheld his true strength.

“What was that feeble attempt? I know you can muster more!” I taunted, emboldened.

With a grin, Chester delivered a strike so powerful it sent me tumbling, shield and all.

“Does that suit you better?” he laughed.

“Much better, indeed! Tell me, do you belong to a legion or company? I should like to meet more of your kind,” I inquired, nearly pleading.

It was Oswald who answered, not Chester. “There are five of us: myself, Chester, Garrett, and Winston.”

“You are forgetting one,” Chester interjected.

“We do not speak of Richard,” Oswald sighed.

“Why? Has he committed some grievous offense?” I asked, anxiety returning.

“It is not so,” Chester replied, his voice flat. “He is simply… peculiar. Each full moon, he vanishes into the forest, behaving as though he were some woodland beast.”

I dreaded the thought of where he went each time there was a full moon. Was he practicing dark magic in there? I shook the thought away from my head.

“Let’s go,” Chester ordered me. I followed him and found myself at a camping ground of sorts. It was filled with the five knights, most of whom gave me a look of disgust.

“What is this screwball doing here?” Garrett demanded to know.

“He’s important; he beat me in a brawl, Oswald admitted sheepishly.

“So? My grandmother could beat your a*s,” Winston jested.

“Whatever, screw you guys!” he pouted.

“No thanks,” Richard said out of nowhere. He had jet-black hair and a raspy voice like gravel itself. My voice, on the other hand, is soft and gentle. Usually.

“What do you know about anything, Richard?” Chester barked the question out,

“I know you made a mistake bringing him along!” he shouted back. I was left speechless by all of the insults.

“Can we all just calm down? Please!” I asked, my pulse pounding.

“You’re right,” Garrett admitted.

“Please sit, Ian,” Chester led me to the fire and sat me down. I felt glad I had some company. It certainly beat having to slave away in the coal mines all day.

Do you like music, Ian?” Oswald asked me out of nowhere.

“Umm, yes. Who doesn’t like music?” I chuckled.

“Good point,” Winston replied with a second chuckle.

“Hey, why don’t we sing When She Comes Home?” Chester asked the group.

“Speak of the devil, I heard that song no more than an hour ago!” I exclaimed happily.

“Ready to sing, my fellow knights?” Chester asked everyone in the group.

“Ready,” we all said at the same time.

We sang our hearts out that night.