Thirst

The Master and His Knight

Lord Franklin Hawk was in for a bind. Or so he says.

It has been a day since he came back from the capital. Son of the town's grand duke and heir to his estate, he was sent to the royal palace to deal with matters concerning his education.

Years went, five to be exact, and now he was back with supposedly the fruits of his learnings to boast to his father and his people.

But frankly, he didn't learn anything.

"What's the deal with nobility and their hunger for wealth and land, Oliver? I see no use of this political disputes I find myself caught up in the daily. I thought we were the the abandoned state of the North, removed from the kingdom like some kind prodigal son cut off. What's with all this clinging to the same royals who pushed as away?"

Oliver Baker could only sigh at the sight of his master. As a simple low ranking knight who was tasked to be a guard for the noble in town, he wasn't supposed to have much say on the matter of his own opinions.

But coincidentally, Franklin was also his friend. During these moments when the young Lord Hawk was washed up with booze and drowning in his so-called miseries, speaking his mind was the least of Oliver's worries.

"I believe it is to care for the same estate you're set to inherit, Lord Franklin," Oliver stated in a matter of fact tone, remembering to address the young noble appropriately.

"Do we really need the support of those pompous royals? Haven't we been doing alright on our own? Father is just wasting his and my time with all these schemes disguised as my education plans!"

Franklin's voice boomed like a wild fired gun in the middle of a rowdy market. Oliver sighed once again, tired and weary.

It hasn't been a day since the two of the arrived from the capital. It was understandable for the both of them to relax and unwind before they settled in and have Franklin take care of his duties as he was expected to.

And yet here they were in the brink of midday, drinking and loitering when the tavern hasn't officially even opened yet.

A sole bartender was cleaning the wooden counter with his trusty rug and a lady or two were out and about sweeping under tables and chairs before the patrons rushed in for the night. They were eyeing the strangers with curious glances, hovering a bit too close for Oliver's liking.

They must've heard the news. Although the town wasn't lively enough and it was the smallest town of the dukedom, it was still the nearest place to the Hawk's manor where the Duke and his family resided. Of course they would've known what's out.

Oliver sighed for the third time, the weariness showing through the dark circles around his eyes. He hasn't slept a wink. Everything else was taking a toll on him.

Lord Franklin took a large swig of booze, barfing right after he swallowed. He stood up as he wiped his mouth with one hand and clumsily supported himself with the tavern's rickety table.

Oliver could only shook his head.

"Where are you going now, my Lord?" Oliver asked.

"I need to free my mind of these worries, my friend," was the only thing he said.

He patted Oliver's shoulder once and strolled over to the counter where one of the ladies and the bartender were whispering to each other. His strides were uneven. One push and he would've toppled over.

It was clear to Oliver what he was up to. There were no other places in this dingy town where his master could frolic like he used to in the capital. He liked to go on and on about his care for his territory when it was obvious he had other things in mind when he said "I need some place to think."

Oliver wished he could drown his sorrows away in booze like he did. He sometimes wished he didn't have his honor to protect or the need for a job to keep his money intact.

The half empty bottle on the table was more tempting than Oliver would like to admit. It was the most he has felt weakened and certainly not himself. But one look at Lord Franklin and it was enough for him to erase the idea out of his mind.

The soon-to-be duke in all his glory, or lack thereof, was all over the maiden who was just awhile ago shooting him weird glances. The young Lord's hand was ungraciously reaching for the woman's bossom while she laughed and said no without meaning it.

How tiring. When does one feel unbothered by this? Oliver still hasn't, a rush of red slowly creeping to the tips of his ears. He blamed the cold of the North, apologizing for his dishonesty right after, then hurried along to pull his master away from the fruit of the devil.

—

"Why do you always spoil my fun, my dear Oliver?" Lord Franklin asked with that same loud voice he had inside the tavern. They were already out in the snow and yet the volume somehow hasn't lessened despite the space of the mountains.

"I am merely doing what I am ask of, my Lord," Oliver answered frankly.

"Which is to spoil my fun! I know my father put you up to this but won't you lighten up? You could join me, as a matter of fact. That doesn't sound so bad in my books."

"I wouldn't dare, my Lord. The fun is all yours to take." The joke, poorly as it was, fell flat on Franklin's head.

"I am more than welcome to share."

Repulsed a little, Oliver declined again. This made Franklin frown.

"It's disappointing to see you like this. You've become like those rigid knights from the palace. I don't know what happened between you and the men from the royal cavalry, but I sort of miss the times when you didn't care about our ranks and talked to me like who I am. We're still friends I assume."

What happened in the palace was at the last of the lost of things Oliver wanted to remember. He didn't like it one bit when the smug faces of those pompous bastards flashed in his mind.

Oliver also didn't like being confronted like this. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry... my Lord," he said, squeezing in Franklin's title that made him wince. "I apologize, truly. But we have just returned from what everyone knows as one your quests for the title of Duke. Being your knight, what I had in mind was to carry your honor as I do yours."

Oliver paused before speaking again. "Not that you bother caring about your honor with the way you act. Seriously, Franklin, why do you always have to be so shameless?"

A road of laughter erupted from the young noble surprising Oliver. He looked a little worried then sceptical as he watched Franklin Hawk explode in heaps of laughter like a prancing bear in the middle of the streets of High Peak. His concern vanished in an instant.

"Finally!" Franklin said after the laughing fit. "Welcome back, old friend. It's good to hear you say my name again."

He smacked Oliver in the back which was painful and unexpected enough to make the man a bit unbalanced on his feet.

Being a knight meant that stuff like that shouldn't be something he was supposed to be weak against. Sneak attacks were something to be prepared for and a firm stance was one of things he should have remembered to keep.

But for the past five years this was the only place he could be relax in. No more sneaky assassins and treacherous capital nobles to look out for. No more worrying about etiquette and manners and strict rules between the caste systems set up by those who were in power to control those who were not.

Here in High Peaks, he could just be with his friend walking in the middle of snow covered street where the mountains were the only one who were keen to watch them and bother to care. Folks here might like their rumors, but that was all they care about. Talk.

"How lovely." Franklin said.

Still deep in his thoughts, Oliver thought he was pitching into his sentiments because he said, "Indeed."

"That waist... I am sure it feels nice to hold into an embrace!"

Wait, what? Oliver snapped back to reality. Franklin wasn't beside him anywhere. He was off to catch a slim figure in the distance, battling with the heaps of snow and the soft gust of wind.

Oliver sighed, thinking how much sighing he'd have to do in the presence of his Lord. He got on his feet and ran off to catch up to Franklin.