18:03:32, Saturday, 27th May 1329.

Eve of the Feast of Pentecost.

Town of Douglas, Scotland.

Liam’s first duty was to await the return of the Seneschal and to receive new clothes befitting his elevated station. He stood tall as he waited. Pride stiffened his back and his eyes shone, a beatific smile on his lips.

After a short time, Liam saw the Seneschal reappear in a doorway leading further into the keep. The seneschal beckoned Liam forwards with a knowing smile.

The newly made Page found himself guided to a small bunkroom. Within, items of clothing and a washbasin awaited him.

Liam was told to bathe, and then to clothe himself in his new garb. The seneschal closed the door, waiting outside.

Moving first to the washbowl, he picked up a cloth. As he cleaned his skin, he paused.

It shocked him to realise that even after the ride into town; he was as clean as an hour in a tub and a hard bristled brush could make him. The golden glowing light seemed to have a lingering effect on cleanliness.

He moved on to the clothes. The garments they set out for him were old.

Liam looked them over for holes or tears. While ill-fitting and in places threadbare, the items were also clean and serviceable, with no irreparable damage. With a bit of needlework, they would be in a fine condition in no time!

The Seneschal informed Liam that they belonged to the current Squire of Lord James. He, having outgrown the garments, had happily donated them for Liam's use. Despite being far too large for Liam's lanky frame, he would need to remember to thank the Squire when he met him.

Despite their aged condition, they were brightly dyed and highly fashionable garments.

Liam knew he would have a few nights of darning ahead, but these were worth the effort!

He had never owned such fine things before in his life. Looking at the decorated leather and buckles of the boots, it seemed now he would own many.

He dressed slowly.

His undershirt and tunic were far too long, however, and bunched at his waist, so he tucked the tails into his trews. This allowed them to fold over, giving the appearance of a better fit.

Assessing his appearance, Liam saw his tunic was now just long enough that it covered any unsightly bunching where he’d cinched the leather ring-belt tight to holdup his baggy trews.

The leggings were also far too long, so he cuffed them up to a functional height and stuffed the folded fabric into his much too spacious leather boots.

These he cinched tight with the provided cord.

His toes had never had so much room!

Experience told Liam he would need to pad the shoes heavily to avoid blistering.

All the clothes were a dark blue with white trim on the cuffs. Smooth ribbons of blue silk lay within the clothes and laced them together where required.

Liam had then taken a great deal of time staring into his own reflection in the wash-bowl’s waters.

He now looked like a wealthy noble boy, rather than one of the town’s children he grew up around.

Liam smirked as he wondered what Duncan would say if he saw him. The smirk faded as he realized that if he saw Duncan again, their worlds were now far apart. He just hoped his boyhood friend wouldn’t bow and scrape to him.

Well, not too much anyway.

As Liam finished admiring himself, he turned to find the Seneschal coming through the door. “Do not tarry lad. We have much to do!” he said. “I can only imagine that you are finding the transition from carpenter's apprentice to nobility exciting!”

He paused, waiting for Liam to reply.

Not expecting affability, it took Liam a moment. “Yes, Sir. It surely is. These clothes alone must be worth more than all the food I’ve ever eaten.” Liam said.

He wasn’t sure how to take about this old man. If one could feel a personality, the Seneschal was like a well-kept sword. Razor sharp and deadly, but somehow comforting.

When treated with due respect and care, that is.

The Seneschal snorted a surprised laugh. “Hm… by the size of you I’d say it’s likely.” He eyed Liam up and down.

“You’re a tall enough lad for your age, but that will nae help you swing a shield or bear a spear through chain mail. We’ll have to ensure you receive larger portions to get some meat on you.”

As they walked, the Seneschal pointed out duties, areas of interest, and locations that Liam could expect to be at different times of the day or night. The Seneschal also took the time to explain to Liam the difficulties that such a significant change in station may cause for him.

“I should take care to warn ye, lad, that many from both higher and lower stations may begrudge your sudden rise to nobility. I recommend you tread carefully and with a good deal of reflection. Especially with anyone you have not established as a new acquaintance. Even amongst your oldest friends you may find new jealousies and intrigues that will pull you into perilous waters.”

Liam nodded. While he’d seen Colm’s eyes tear up with pride, he knew that many in the town would indeed begrudge him his new status. He only hoped that the nobility might be kinder. From what little he’d heard; he didn’t dare get his hopes up.

“Enough warnings. You shall find your own way, or you won't. Whatever happens, you shall have the Lord’s protection, and mine once you swear fealty.”

"I have not introduced myself.” He spoke. “I am Sir Keith of Clyde, the Seneschal of Douglas Keep.”

He did not stop as he spoke, striding through the keep with Liam following him.

“From this moment forward, you will answer to me in all things related to your duties as a Page, as well as any actions you take within this keep and the grounds. If you are to leave the curtain walls for any reason without myself or the Lord, your conduct is your responsibility. And you alone will answer for it.”

Liam bowed his hand over his heart as he’d once seen a knight genuflect to Lord Douglas. “Aye, and thank you for your wisdom, Sir Keith,” he said.

Sir Keith stifled a snort of derision. “You dinnae need to show obeisance to me, lad, only obedience. Yet it does you well to show respect to those you do not know. Especially in these End Times.” he finished ominously.

“We are past due for your first and only lesson before you become a true page.” The Seneschal looked at him expectantly. “I ask this of every lad I train, as my master did when I was a page. You may have heard of him. His name was Wallace.”

This time Liam knew exactly what the Seneschal meant.

“Sir William Wallace?” Liam asked in awe. “He was your knight?”

“That he was, lad. The Wallace was a giant of a man, but his wits were truly his greatest asset. His intent was like the strongest steel, but flowed like water, ever malleable to his will.” Sir Keith stared off for a moment, remembering something from long ago.

"When I saw his stand on Stirling Bridge, there was no English Knight or Lord who would come near him. Braver common men stepped forward and with blows like thunder, Wallace would strike them down. When he ran forward into the English ranks, I thought him doomed, but he slew those around him with ease and stove in one of the bridge supports, causing it to collapse. He alone was the reason the English fled the field. The rest of us were merely spectators."

He returned from the memory with a start and looked sharply at Liam. "King Robert knighted him soon after."

“I ask you now the first question the Wallace asked of me!”

"I would know of your intent!” He said shortly. “What is it?” Liam had not heard this word before.

“Int..?” Liam began.

“Your Intent!” He repeated. “You woke up this morning. What made you? Was it the expectation of your master? Why did you go to the woods? He sent you and you didn’t want to let him down? Why did you pick up the sword in the ambush? What drove you to strike, to parry, to obey the Lord?”

Holding up a hand, the old knight stopped any answer Liam could give. "Whatever your answers, they are but a purpose of the moment, not your intent. They are no more important to your spirit than the decision of when to close your eyes and sleep."

He took Liam by the shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. “What is your motive-spirit? What drives you to be? What does your soul crave?”

The knight seemed to stare past Liam's eyes to something deeper. “That is your intent!”

Liam’s brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know…”

“In every war I’ve fought in, in every tavern-brawl, raid, and battle, the most important aspect of any individual is their self-defined intent.” The seneschal said. "It is the moment of realization. That intensity of focussed determination, matched to action, driving you past your limitations to achieve, overcome and conquer any goal."

“Sel…” Liam began.

“When an intent forms, it becomes the rigid backbone of a man who refuses to bend despite the weight of the world. For some men, it is so strong that it breaks the world and allows them to act as they will.” Sir Keith said.

“I once thought as many young folk do. That the path to wealth, glory and power is simply a gift, a bit of luck or could a prize of war. It is not so!”

“A man must carve out his path through the very core of this world if he is to be great!”

Liam looked on in awe as Sir Keith spoke. It was as though words dripped from his tongue like honey, flying from him in a viscous torrent of words.

“I…. I want to be the greatest knight in Scotland!” he said, feigning certainty. “Every day I dream of it, to be the greatest warrior in all the land, to have everyone admire me… and to slay…” He paused, thinking about the archer he had killed earlier that day. The horror returned, the feelings of remorse and guilt.

He returned with a start at the abrupt smack on the back of his head. “I dinnae ask you what your dreams were, boy!” the seneschal growled. “I am asking about your resolve and purpose. Intent is where those forces join. Now, What… Is… Your…. Intent!”

With each word, the seneschal punched his finger into Liam’s chest.

Liam thought about it. He realised he’d never reflected truly about why he was who he was, what he wanted from life, or what he might need to overcome to get there. Everything before now had been simple. He would be told who to be.

He'd never had goals, not really. Just tasks that his master told him to complete, and so he'd made a game of it, trying to find fun in it so he grow bored.

As for his purpose, it had always been to find comfort in life. Even his dreams of being a knight were dreams of ease and admiration, not struggle and strife. He knew he could have worked harder, been better. He just hadn't seen a point. Liam knew that he’d either have become a carpenter and travelled to another town seeking employment, or he'd have escaped to become a mercenary in a war somewhere. A war where he probably would end up dying - because he lacked an intent.

The childish simplicity he'd been displaying would not be possible now he was on a path to ruling his own fief and those of his people who lived on it.

He thought back to his day. Everything he’d done before the ambush had been something he’d been told to do. Much of what happened after had been his own decisions. The Lord hadn’t told him how to gather the horses. Nor had he been told to help his lord fight.

Perhaps his intent was to serve Lord Douglas?

But while that might resolve the immediate question, it wasn’t his intent. It was the intent of who he had been.

The bored carpenter's apprentice.

The archer had paid the price of a lack of intent, ignoring his goal of capturing the Lady, to indulge in the entertainment of torture.

It was why Liam yet lived.

The archer had lost focus on his intent and had then lost his life.

Liam knew he had no real resolve in that fight. When he had finally mustered the will to fight, it had been as an animalistic beast, not as a man with intent.

But then Liam realised the truth. His intent had transformed from something weak into something powerful. He’d gone from being a simple carpenter's apprentice lying broken in the mud to a hateful beast who would survive at all costs.

He recalled the elation he had felt when the sword sunk into the archer's groin. The achievement of intent had been euphoric.

Liam knew it was not right to exalt at the cost of other’s lives, but he hadn't felt exaltation at the man's death. It was the ultimate achievement of his intent in that moment - Survival.

Then he knew. That was the reason the Knights were so admired. It was not because they wore fine clothing or rode the great war-horses. It was not because they carried mighty named swords or slew enemies by the dozen. It was not even because they protected the small folk from harm, or always spoke truth.

The noble knights were so admired because they met challenges with the will of their whole intent and beat a path through every obstacle. Even if that intent was of a savage, cornered beast.

"I don't know." Liam said. "At least not yet. I had the intent to survive when I slew the archer, it was as if a beast arose within me. But that wasn't my intent."

He said this with more certainty. Suddenly it occurred to him what his true intent was, what it always had been!

Liam wanted to learn. He wanted to explore the world and truly understand it. He wanted to become someone better. Liam wanted to be a true Knight. A man of strength who could protect those who could not protect themselves. These were his goals. Things he had grown up determined to achieve, but they were not yet an intent.

He realised he didn’t care about money. He’d none to begin with. What he had were friends, people who cared for him. He had his mind, his body, and his soul. A strangely powerful feeling came over him and he smiled. This was who he was!

He thought he knew now. His need right now - no, his intent - was to discover how to manifest a powerful and lifelong intent.

That aspect of his inner Will that would allow him to match any challenge the Tribulation or the world threw at him so he could protect his friends.

To do so, he knew he would need to take a lot of time in reflecting on his actions. He needed to work out who he was, who he wanted to be, and what he needed to do to achieve that. This was his goal. He just doubted that he could achieve it.

And then he realised what Sir Keith was really trying to get him to understand. The one thing every aspiring page needed to learn:

The intent of a page was to learn when to combine their resolve with effective action in such a way that they could act without doubting themselves.

A lance, sword, warhorse and armour were merely tools a knight used.

Only their intent truly bound their capacity to act. So long as knights had their intent, they were the harbingers of change in the world, and nothing but death could stop them.

A knight did not doubt their ability.

A second realisation struck him. If the purpose of a page was to learn what their intent is. The purpose of a squire was to manifest it.

A knight was merely the culmination of a Squire bringing their intent to fruition.

Liam smiled, suddenly understanding why a knight was given spurs to commemorate their knighthood.

While they were practical for riding, they were more symbolic of the giver's hope that they would speed the new Knight to wherever he sought to apply that trained intent on future quests.

The purpose of his position suddenly and overwhelmingly snapped into focus.

Liam now understood what it meant to be a Knight. He also knew he had a long path to tread.

Sir Keith had been watching him with a slowly spreading smile and interrupted him before he could speak.

“Well, I can see by your expression you are no fool, Liam. The Page Andrew - whom you shall soon meet - took over a year before he understood the purpose of a page. He is a good lad, but naïve.”

"Ponder on the matter some more, lad, and discuss it with the other boys when you can. I think you are close to a true understanding. The world of service is far more complex than people would choose to believe.”

He patted Liam on the back.

“For old soldiers like myself, I simply yearned to survive, to build a home and live in peace. Over time, I found my true goal and purpose intersected in service to our Lord Douglas. For men like Lord Douglas and King de Brus, it is a much more complex intent.”

“They fought to reclaim their lands, for them and their people?” Liam asked, recalling the story of Falkirk and Bannockburn.

“Humph, once maybe.” The knight said, grunting in agreement. “But then they learned that their position was also one of service. For Lord Douglas to the people of this land, and to King de Brus to all of Scotland. With that, their intentions changed, became weaker. It is part of why the ambush nearly killed our Lord today.”

Liam thought for a moment. “So, not only do I have to find a powerful intent, but stay true to it?”

The Seneschal shook his head with a wry grin.

“In part, yes. But more important than that is if you can stay true to that fundamental resolve, and to incorporate within it your morals, your ethics and your very being.” The seneschal corrected.

“But we shall find out!”

With that, he spun on his heel and beckoned Liam to follow. As the pair walked through the rough-hewn stone corridors of the Keep's interior, Sir Keith gave Liam a brief explanation of the social etiquette required as a junior member of the keep.

Signs of obeisance were necessary within the hierarchy of the Keep. It kept the order and maintained discipline amongst the common folk. Any disrespect shown to those of greater rank within the keep was disrespect to Lord James himself. However, only intended disrespect was likely to be punished.

The Seneschal then explained how to offer an apology to any for an unintended lack of respect and advised Liam to practice this until he learned his place and his duties within the hierarchy. Many would forgive him for his ungenteel ways if he was humble and apologetic, but only for a small time.

“Now, onwards.” Sir Keith said, proceeding with the tour of the keep. “The room in which you changed is the accommodation of you and your fellow Pages. You are to maintain it and keep it as clean as your body at all times. If I or the Squire find it a mess, you will all be on several extremely unsavoury duties for a week - on top of your regular duties.” Liam nodded, following the knight closely.

“Take heed. If it is you who causes those extra-duties for the others, it will give them reason to dislike you, and to think they sleep within arm’s reach!” He arched an eyebrow as he looked at Liam to see if he received the message.

“Yes, Sir Keith. I know they would.” Liam could well imagine how they would react. A bucket of cold water over his cot would be the kindest of rebukes he could expect for causing added duties.

The pair reached the great hall of the Keep while Sir Keith continued his instruction.

“You will meet your fellows in due course. I would also suggest that you allow them to decide your position within their hierarchy. From my memories as a page, some children can be quite bullish.”

He changed the subject, pointing at a corner of the hall nearest the high table.

“Your station will be in that alcove there. You are to ensure the carafe of wine is constantly full, and to keep the guests’ cups served at all times - within reason. You are not to pour the wine into the goblet as a guest drinks it. Wait for him to put the vessel down and when they are busy in conversation, you fill from the RIGHT.” Sir Keith approached the right side of the Lord’s chair and mimicked the action of a servant pouring wine into an imaginary cup. “Like so.”

His vision unfocused for a moment and he paused. “Interesting.”

He looked at Liam. “Either you are paying more attention than the usual page, or I am dreaming.”

Liam’s confused face was the only reaction the aging seneschal received. “I just received a message in an odd red vision that I have increased my skill in teaching and in acting. Most curious!” The Seneschal said.

He shook his head. “Onwards!” Liam was now rushing to catch up to a man nearly four times his own age.

The pair walked quickly up a staircase which spiralled up and around to the right. It seemed narrow to Liam, as other staircases in the town were quite wide by comparison.

As they reached the landing, Liam gasped. Rich tapestries covered the room, and a thick carpet covered the floor with intricate patterns in rare dyes. A sculpture sat on a table near the middle of the room, and this room was a mere hallway.

As Liam looked around, he noticed some of the Master Carpenters' craft.

The furniture and timber structural supports displayed familiar patterns of carvings across their surfaces. Armoires with scenes of hunts, carvings on the legs of chairs which made the feet appear to be cats’ paws, and a variety of other designs.

The beauty of the crafted goods made Liam wish he’d paid more attention to the carpenter's instructions. These creations were truly wondrous. They also showed the significant level of wealth held by Lord Douglas.

“The Lord's chambers are down this hall.”

He pointed to an enormous set of double doors at one end of the Hall.

He then pointed to the other end of the corridor.

“Mine are there.”

The knight listened as a small bell went off somewhere below them. “You are not to come to this level of the keep unless invited, ordered or on urgent business that absolutely cannot wait.”

Liam nodded “Yes, Sir Keith.”

“Now off with ye, boy.” The seneschal dismissed him. “Get to your chambers and prepare yourself for dinner service. And tell your fellow Pages not to be late!”

As Liam hurried back to his new quarters, he pondered his intent. The old knight made it sound like a force unmatched in the world. He only hoped he would be worthy of it.

Liam approached the door to his room. He was nervous about meeting his new colleagues and wanted to make a good impression.

He paused to ensure that his oversized uniform was as presentable as he could make it. Satisfied, he reached out his hand to the wooden handle.

As he pulled upon it, the door flung open with a crash and two boys spilled into the corridor. They wrestled each other amidst a torrent of curses. Using arms and legs to gain leverage, each lad seemed desperate to gain the advantage.

Liam could only laugh at the sudden ridiculousness of the sight.

The two paused their brawling to glare at him.

One spoke, angered by the laughter.

"And who the hell do you think you are?"