The Green Feather

After breakfast, the squires assembled in a small hall to receive the times when they would meet their new knight-masters who would instruct them for the next four years of their lives before the final task to become a knight of the realm – slaying a dragon of the mountains. Favian swept back his long black hair and bound it, sighing as he waited for his turn. Titus nudged him, his bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I can’t wait, “ he admitted in an excited whisper. “What about you?” Favian shook his head, having difficulty holding back a smile.

“No, but I think I’ll let this moment go on for a little longer. I have a thing for suspense.” Titus snorted and rolled his eyes, tossing his nut-brown hair back over his shoulder with a shake of his head. A few of the boys in front looked around in surprise but he just stared at them until they turned around again, slightly embarrassed.

Gradually, the crowd grew thinner and soon Favian and Titus both had slips of parchment clutched in their hands as they hurried back to their room to wait for their appointments. Sitting on Favian’s bed, they speculated who they were most likely to spend the next four years with until it was Titus’ turn to leave.

Favian watched him go with a sort of sadness in his eyes. They had known each other since they were very small children as their fathers were also close friends and being separated from each other for a long amount of time was bound to have consequences on Favian’s and Titus’ friendship.

An hour went past and Titus returned. His expression was unreadable. Favian raised one eyebrow.

“When you get back, then we can share,” Titus responded to the unasked question. Favian nodded and left the room, walking down the corridor to the office of the training master, Sir Marcus of Hilldale. Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer.

“Enter,” came the soft reply. The nervous squire opened the door and closed it quietly behind him. In front of the desk where the smiling training master was, sat Lysander Mesuma, Lord Protector of the King. Favian’s mouth dropped open in utter shock.

*

Cameo swore under his breath for the fifth time as he stumbled on the rocky hillside. He picked up the bag he had dropped with his lunch and ocarina (which he wasn’t even sure why he brought along but he had felt a sudden impulse to take it) in and hurried after Keene. They were going after the Roc that Cameo had been in his dream-walk on the basis that he had seen the inside of one of the cottages belonging to the hillsmen towards the side of the forest that was nearest to Balia, the country of men.

When Cameo had related the entirety of the dream to the ranger, the older man had insisted on setting out at first light. Not that Cameo had minded – the Roc had seemed to be in a precarious situation – but the hill they had to climb was almost a mountain and as rocky to boot. They had walking for four hours with very few breaks for refreshments because, as Keene often reminded him, time was of the essence and every minute that they wasted, could be another minute off the life of the unfortunate bird they were bent on saving.

They reached the top of the rise and immediately the plumes of dark smoke rising from the chimneys of the small cabins were visible. Keene turned to Cameo.

“First we go to the village hall. There we can find someone who’ll perhaps tell us something we need to know.” Cameo nodded and followed after him as they walked towards the settlement.

As they approached the buildings on the fringes of the village, they saw curious children wandering after them, abandoning their play to stare at the two strangers in their midst. Keene motioned for Cameo to ignore them as they continued towards the largest building with a clock on the front, which Cameo took to be the village hall. As soon as they got inside though, he could see that something was definitely not right.