Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lucan patted his horse as the stablemaster tightened and tested the straps on the saddle. His mount was black with a thick mane that streamed down its neck. Even though they wouldn’t use mounts in the incursion into the forest, his father wanted him to take his warmount for appearance’s sake. Lucan donned a badly-sized, steel breastplate over mail and padded cloth. The breastplate would be his armor until the blacksmith was done with a properly sized full plate, which would take a while. He was expected to keep growing in the coming years, so the plate would have to be resized or possibly even replaced.

They were in the middle of the bailey with Lee, the old man-at-arms, already mounted. Lucan’s father and Thomas were present to see them off.

“Do us proud, son,” his father said. “This is your Rite.”L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.

Lucan nodded, even if he found the whole thing nonsensical. The Rite was a tradition that had survived from the old continent. It had supposedly been a custom among warrior clans and families before the Death of the continent. A son must face his first encounter against enemies–human or beast–without his father or family. Once that was done, he would be considered ‘a man’ of his own right. The stupidity of Rite wasn’t wasted on Lucan, specially considering that the Dead Continent had never had Elder Roots like the ones present in the Elder Lands, which, according to books, meant that one couldn’t get their Blessing without going into combat first. That made the first encounter all the more dangerous.

Nonetheless, Lucan complied with his father. At least he was sending old Lee with him and not throwing him to Sir Wolfe alone. The intensity of the Rite differed from family to family. Some Houses sent their sons with whole complements of troops to protect them during their ‘Rite’. Others made sure that the first encounter was as safe as could be. Of course, some families, like those in the Veti Empire, took the Rite much more seriously. Older accounts of how sons had been thrown into danger to either perish or come out stronger made Lucan shiver.

His father got his attention again as he spoke. “Follow Sir Wolfe’s commands and listen to Lee’s counsel.”

“Yes, father,” Lucan said. He turned to Thomas who was as presently silent as always. “Any advice, uncle Thomas?” The old man had urged him to stop calling him ‘uncle’ as he came of age, but Lucan found it difficult to do so, even if old Thomas would become his subordinate someday.

The steward gave him a kind smile, tinged with something. “I’m certain you will do well, Lucan,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Though some would suggest you avoid reading your Blessing’s announcements during combat.”

The sun had only risen slightly by the time Lucan and Lee arrived at Sir Wolfe’s fortified manor. A rider had hailed them at the edge of the knight’s territory, leading them the rest of the way.

They were received by Sir Wolfe, a wiry man a bit younger than his father with hawkish features and bronze skin. He was armed and armored, surrounded by six men-at-arms.

“Welcome, young Lucan,” he said, then nodded to Lee who lowered his head.

Lucan and Lee dismounted quickly, as it would be disrespectful to greet the knight while they were mounted and he was not. “Sir Wolfe,” Lucan said, lowering his head, keeping a rigid and respectful posture.

“Ah, come off it, boy,” Sir Wolfe said. “I’ve known you since before you could talk.” Lucan relaxed slightly, though not entirely. After all, Sir Wolfe wasn’t the reason he was anxious in the first place. The knight gestured for a man who took their horses, leading the mounts into the manor’s walls. “Are you ready to go? I’d rather we don’t waste any more daylight.”

“Yes,” Lucan said decisively, before he could give himself a chance to think about it.

The knight nodded approvingly, then he gestured for his men to begin moving. “My hunter will lead us to where he spotted the beasts. Once there, we’ll spread out until someone finds them and alerts the rest of us. Don’t bog yourself down in a fight without my say-so.” He looked at Lucan as though waiting for affirmation.

So Lucan gave it to him. “Yes, Sir.”

The manor was on the western side of the canal, with farmlands stretching around it much like the farmlands in his father’s territory. On the other side of the canal was the forest. A bridge facilitated movement between the two banks. Sir Wolfe’s party crossed it in silent anticipation, plunging into the forest without a word.