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Chapter Four Upon reaching the War Room, Baigan closed the door and went to sit behind his desk, in front of the case filled with scrolls of the military records from the last few centuries. The War Room was what the cadets had nicknamed this hall, which served as the unofficial headquarters of Baron's military, and Baigan found it amusing. The name stuck. Kain remained standing, since he was in the presence of a superior officer, until Baigan motioned for him to sit. "At ease, Highwind. This may be business, but I'm not giving you orders. Have a seat." Kain did so, and fought the urge to lean forward in anticipation. As a Dragoon, he would have to be stoic, not eager. He wasn't going to chance coming off as unsuitable, even now, after the decision had most likely been made. For if it had... he was already a Dragoon. Baigan, for his part, was being equally as stoic. "Well, Kain, the king and I discussed it for a long while. Both of us had our doubts, naturally, and you're an intelligent fellow, I'm sure you know why." Kain considered his words. Fellow. Not "lad", but not "man" either. That could be good or bad. Baigan rested his hands upon the table. "So... I'm not going to beat around the bush." Kain looked up at him hopefully, in spite of himself, and his heart fell when he saw it in Baigan's eyes. "I'm sorry, Kain, but the king and I came to the agreement that you'll have to wait a year before you join - and that's if the war lasts that long." Kain was utterly stunned, to the point he was not even upset. He just barely managed to nod quickly, after a moment's hesitation. Baigan's eyes did genuinely look apologetic. "I know this meant a lot to you, but rules are rules. Not to mention, you've done marvelously in practice bouts, but you've never known true battle. You understand, don't you?" Kain nodded quickly again, as it began to sink in. He was not a Dragoon. If the war was over in a year, he wouldn't get the chance for three more years. Cecil would be rising in rank as a Dark Knight, while he languished in the town guard for another three long years... three years of kicking pickpockets out of the town, and discouraging loiterers. His hands, beneath the table, began to shake in frustration. Three more years during which he would be unable to wear his father's armor. "I'm glad," Baigan said, noticeably relieved. "I was afraid you might be too upset to consider an alternative that the king and I discussed." Kain looked up at him in surprise, the slightest glimmer of hope returning to him. Could it be this had been a test, to see if he had the necessary control over his emotions? Baigan wasn't known for subtle tricks, but you never knew... "As you know, the king has been reviewing young men to become Dark Knights. One of the young men who appears most promising is your friend Cecil." "Yes..." As if he didn't already know that, Kain thought bitterly. What did this have to do with him? "He's told me you're very handy with a sword, almost as much so as your spears," Baigan continued smoothly. "I saw you today, of course, and confirmed it for myself. The way you went for his sword hand when you decided you were outclassed... that was marvelous. You seem to have a strong instinct for battle, whatever weapon you choose. Perhaps if you concentrated more on your swordfighting, your skill would surpass your current talents with the spear." "Why would I do that?" Kain asked, confused. "A spear is a Dragoon's weapon. I will be a Dragoon someday, so why concentrate on another weapon?" "Well, the king and I were thinking, you obviously care very much about Baron's welfare. I saw that when I spoke to you before." He leaned forward, almost as if his words were a secret. "What if you were to fight alongside your friend, to defend Baron's honor as a Dark Knight?" Kain's heart clenched painfully again. To become a Dark Knight, he'd have to swear allegiance to that training, give up his dream of being a Dragoon. "Thank you for the offer," he said, surprised his voice remained level, "but if I did that, I would never wear my father's armor. I am the son of a Dragoon, and I will be one myself someday, even if I have to wait a year... even if I have to wait twenty." Baigan looked a bit disappointed. "I understand, Kain. I wish it were otherwise, but I do understand. For the time being, you will be in my command as one of the Royal Guard, until you're eligible for candidacy. Unless, of course, you change your mind about joining the quest to become a Dark Knight." "I won't." That was one thing Kain was sure of. "All right..." Baigan finished, standing. Kain stood as well, seeing as he was now in the presence of his commanding officer, regardless of what the Captain had said earlier. "There's nothing more to discuss, then. You're dismissed, Kain. And... let me reiterate, I'm truly sorry things turned out as they did. I did all I could," he added as Kain turned to leave. "I know. Thank you," Kain told him, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, Kain sagged back against the wall. All that effort at being hard and stoic, like a Dragoon should be, all those hours spent training, pushing himself to the limit of endurance, all for this singular purpose... and again, he'd have to wait. Sure, he'd been promoted to the Royal Guard, but there was little difference in his duties. The Royal Guard never saw any excitement, they just lined the halls at public functions, and stood outside the king's bedchamber at night. His head was suddenly pounding, and he clutched it in agony as everything around him seemed to cloud over. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia engulfed him, and he started for the castle's gate. Fresh air would clear his head... Before he got very far, he nearly bumped into someone, stumbling aside at the last moment. "Kain?" a voice asked, and he looked up to see Cecil standing before him, wearing his black tunic. "What did Baigan..." The smile on his face faded away as he got a look at his friend. Cecil bit his lip. "I take it you weren't accepted." "No," Kain managed to say. Cecil shook his head. "Ah, Kain... I'm sorry... What can I say?" Something clicked in the back of Kain's mind all of a sudden, and he peered suspiciously at Cecil. "Why did you tell Baigan I was as good with a sword as a spear?" Cecil did a double take. "Huh? I said that because you are." "Of course. And I suppose it was just a coincidence that you chose to have us fight with swords today, just when Baigan appeared?" Kain glared at his friend. "You knew he was going to reject me, didn't you?" "What?" Cecil exclaimed. "That's ridiculous! Why would he tell me before he told you?" "Why don't you tell me?" Cecil stared at his friend in disbelief. "You can't be serious." "Answer me," Kain growled. "Why?" Cecil sighed in frustration. "I didn't know, I swear it. I told Baigan that because I figured there was a chance you'd be turned down, and I wanted to put in an extra good word in for you. I hoped it would help them decide in your favor. I asked you to fight with a sword today because I was tired of having no chance. With a spear, you beat me every time. That's all. I didn't know Baigan was going to choose today to show up." "If I become a Dark Knight," Kain muttered angrily, "I can never be a Dragoon. I'll never wear my father's armor." "I didn't mean you should become a Dark Knight," Cecil explained. "I understand about your father-" Kain clutched at his head again, as it resumed its pounding. "Oh, shut up," Kain spat viciously. "You understand nothing. Nothing at all! I thought... I thought..." "I know what you thought," Cecil said softly, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Kain shoved it away, as his vision began to cloud over again. "Leave me alone!" With that outburst, Kain brushed past his friend, running once more for the castle gates, past the guards, and then out into the thick surrounding forests. Heedless of where he was going, he pushed his way through the brush, tearing apart the bushes that got in his path. He ran until his sides were heaving, and his legs ached, and then he let himself fall to his knees. Gasping for breath, he began trying to pull himself together. It wasn't the end, he told himself. Another year, at the most three, and he would be wearing that armor. He would wear it. He would be worthy. But he wondered, if his reaction to this rejection was any indication, he wasn't worthy yet. If he'd been accepted, he might have shamed them with this kind of behavior. He might have shamed his father's memory. Suddenly Kain felt incredibly childish. He'd tried for something long before he had any hope of success, then complained when he failed. He'd acted like a spoiled brat. He lowered his head in despair. Perhaps it was only fitting that he'd failed. © 1999 by Andrea Hartmann. |
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