There is a small, squat and old fort just outside of town. Inside, heavy boots clanked as a man in armor stalked down a cold, empty hall. The space was dim, flickering sconces spaced too far apart, the radius of their warm glow never touching and leaving darker spots between them. The man was hunting for someone, a boy who slept and ate and trained in the fort, but was not a knight.

The man quieted his footsteps, taking care in his approach as he found the room he was looking for. The boy spent his nights inside, but this would be his final one. The man pushed open the door, its planks musty and hinges rusty, it squealed quietly in protest but gave way easily. Inside the room was a bed, a small chest at its foot, and a shelf holding baubles the boy had collected. The young man had made quite the home for himself here, but it was time he was evicted, whether he wanted to be or not.

The man entered, snatching a torch from the sconce just outside for light. In the bed, he could see, was the slightly smaller-than-would-be-expected lump of a boy of sixteen, resting under the thin cloth covering him. The man crept ever forward, torchlight flickering across the bare stone floor, reaching for the boy as if trying to wake him, warn him of the oncoming threat, but it was in vain.

The man lit the torch on a sconce near the bed and snuffed his, setting it down and reaching for his waist, where a sword waited eagerly, its hilt fitting comfortably in his hand as he drew. As his right gripped the sword, his left made for the covers. He grabbed the edge and ripped it off, his sword whipping out as he swung towards what was hidden under the blanket—a bundle of pillows.

The man froze, his sword stopping and with the fluidity of a master returning defensively to his side as he perked his ears. One, two quick steps followed by a heavier third and then rustling fabric. The man whipped around to catch the blade aiming for his back, wielded by a young man who’d just leapt through the air towards him, with his own.

“Hah! A decent trick, Alder, but your steps gave you away!” he shouted, redirecting the sword off to his side and hearing the loud clang it made as it hit the solid ground. He aimed a stab for just when the jolt of the landing would leave the boy, Alder’s, footing unstable.

“I was going over your lectures to try and stay sharp, but they were so boring that I fell asleep!” Instead of straightening after the jump, Alder leaned into it and rolled to the side, making a wild swipe as he did so to stop the man from following. “I only woke when you drew steel, hence my sloppy approach. Decide to start early today, Master Edward?”

Edward stepped forward as Alder rolled, timing it so that he was just outside the swing without having to interrupt his stride, and wielded his blade with both hands, bringing his sword low before a quick swing upwards.

“Surprise is the best weapon that doesn’t cost money-” Edward began as Alder dodged to the side of the blow and tried a stab of his own.

“So you always say!” Alder interrupted.

“-and we need to make use of all the time we have left.” Edward parried the stab and they began to exchange blows. Swing, block, stab, parry, their metal singing a chorus as they fought.

“We’ll have plenty of time!” Alder leaned in and locked blades with Edward, using his weight, below-average though it may be, to stay in place a moment and grunting with the effort. “You said if I beat you, I can stay, and I don’t plan on leaving!”

“Yes, if.” Edward replied, emphasizing the ‘if’. “I’ll have you know I don’t intend to ruin my perfect duelling record with you either, and it’ll be easy if you keep using your weight like that!” he stepped back and kicked Alder in the chest, sending him sprawling.

“Hey! A duel has rules!” Alder shouted from the ground, rolling away from another swing, sword slipping from his hand is his haste. He was forced to keep rolling as Edward swung over and over again.

“If!” swing, “You!” swing, “Think!” stab, “Life!” swing, “Has!” swing, “Rules!” thunk. Alder hit the wall and sat up, his vision blurry from dizziness. The sword was leveled at his face, the tip so close that Alder had to cross his eyes to focus on it. “You’ll be sorely disappointed.” Edward finished, before sheathing his blade and offering Alder a hand up.

“And keep hold of your sword, Alder.” He chided as the boy, back on his feet and breathing heavy, retrieved it from where it’d slipped out of his hand. “Surprise is the best weapon that doesn’t cost money-”

“And a sword is the best weapon that does, you’ve told me a thousand times.” Alder said slightly broodily, annoyed that he was beaten so easily, just as easily as every other time. ‘And he says that line after every fight!’ Alder thought, annoyed.

“The jump was a good idea.” Edward added. “You’re smaller than most,”—and he was, standing below average at five-foot-five-inches—”and lighter, so adding the force of the jump made it feel as if I was fighting a full grown man, if only for a moment.” Edward smiled warmly, and a small one tugged at Alder’s lip too.

“I thought you’d like it.” he murmurs. His smile fades soon after and his eyes dip to the floor. “Do I really have to go?” he asks.

Edward heaves a sigh and adjusts his balance, sitting in his hip. Now was not the time to be the boy’s strict swordmaster, this needed a softer touch.

“Alder,” he began, voice soft and lips pressing tight for a moment. He walks over and places a large, gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There comes a time in a man’s life when he has to…” he pauses, searching for the right words, “grow into himself. For you, that time is now.”

“But I didn’t get to decide that, you did it for me.” Alder raises his voice slightly, pulling away from Edward’s hand, who sighs and lowers it.

“I know. And you’re your own man now, you should be making decisions for yourself.”

“Exactly!” Alder shouts, spreading his arms in exasperation.

“But this will be good for you. You’re still young, and you’re bright, still so open to learning. We can’t teach you everything here, here in our countryside fort, you need to see more, experience more.”

Alder didn’t speak back, he knew it wouldn’t change anything, but it was clear he hadn’t warmed up to the idea at all. Edward took a deep breath and a step forward.

“I went through the same thing, you know.” Alder perks up at this. His master rarely spoke about his past, so anytime it was mentioned he listened eagerly.

“After my training, I was sent out too. Left to find my own way. I hated it, at first. I was forced to leave everything I knew behind. But I warmed to it, slowly, surely, and I frankly wouldn’t be the man I am today if I’d stayed in my little bubble.” Edward again put his hand on Alder’s shoulder, and when he didn’t move away again, continued. “As your master, and as your…” father, he wanted to say but didn’t. “Caretaker, trust me.” He looked into Alder’s eyes, watching as his mind went this way and that, before settling. He would trust the man that raised him.

Edward smiled and nodded, clapping his shoulder. “Good. And if you really don’t like it, well, you are your own man. Choose your destiny, and damn what I say.” a small laugh, hardly more than an exhalation, escaped Alder. Edward would trust who he raised.

“Now, pack what you will and be ready by the gate in an hour.” Alder’s face snapped from sincerity to shock in a moment.

“An hour? That’s hardly any time to say goodbye!”

Edward straightened his back and rebalanced on both feet, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling widely. The boy’s master was back. “Then you’d better start now!” he said, and Alder watched in shock as he promptly left the room.

Alder stood there, only the resounding sound of his door clacking shut echoing in the room, and sighed. He dusted himself off and looked around his small room, the home he’d had his whole life. Everything he knew in the world was here, along with everyone, and only now just an hour before his departure was the thought of leaving it all behind finally becoming a reality.

He’d known he’d be leaving, of course. Known for months after Edward had told him the news with a smile and a clap on the back.

“You’ll be going to the capital, Alder,” he had said. “You’ll learn more than I could ever teach you.”

Alder didn’t think that was true. Edward, quiet as he was about his past, was an outstanding swordsman and knowledgeable about a wide variety of topics, such things as history, geography, art, and even magic. Alder had only heard of magic from Edward, never seen it himself. No one in the fort had the talent, nor anyone in the small country town just outside and down the hill. This is common in these distant forts that stand on the cusp of wilderness. Bastions of the Knights Strong, that push against the dangerous and unknown, protecting the brave people who see these outposts as opportunities for wealth, fame, political power, or a combination of all three.

The ones with a talent for spellcasting join the Circle of Magic, a stronghold of knowledge and arcane power. There is some crossover, such cases where a budding wizard prefers to hone their bodies or someone without the gift joins the Circle in a non-magical role such as an assistant or groundskeeper, but generally the two factions keep to themselves. That isn’t to say there are no interactions. The larger or more dangerous forts have a cabal of wizards for extra protection, and it’s almost impossible for the two large guilds not to interact in the cities. But, in the relatively safe countryside where Alder lives, there is only the Knights Strong, of which he is a squire, and the village people.

This sparsity was reflected in Alder’s room, which was home to the few trinkets he’d collected over his life. Edward had taught him to value the moments as he lived them, and discouraged the hoarding of many material possessions, but Alder had still grabbed a few things here and there as meaningful tokens. He went to inspect them, to decide which to keep and which to leave behind here. Some were too impractical, he saw, like the shed antlers of a deer he’d found on his first patrol in the forest, or the barrel where he put his old wooden training swords, a new one every few years to better fit his growing height.

He went to them for a moment, touching them in sequence, smallest to largest, and remembering how poor a swordsman he used to be. Although it is doubtful any child would be skilled with a blade. He’d come a long way since the first one, no longer than a foot and only suitable for a child of three or four, which he’d been when he used it.

Memories came back to him, hazy but familiar, of Edward gently correcting his grip and footwork, teaching him the basic skills and mindset. “Only wield a blade at a man you’re willing to kill,” Edward admonished after Alder had run over and hit the shins of another knight who was practicing nearby. He’d been rather excitable back then, though he still is even today.

His mind came back to the present, holding the small piece of wood in both hands. ‘Just this one,’ he thought, and stowed it in his belt just next to the newest sword he’d received. A farewell gift, he’d been told, made by the smith of the town out of his best steel.

Apparently he’d done it for cheap, too, mentioning that “The boy’s done enough work around here to pay for at least ten of these!”

He went to his shelf next, eyes scanning the smaller things he’d placed there. There was a rough carving of a bird he’d whittled while on guard duty, a small glass bottle that Alder had filled with snow from the first winter he could remember which had now melted, leaving the bottle half full with water. Lastly, there was a braid of his blond hair. He used to wear his hair longer and tie it in a ponytail when he needed to, but a few months ago when he turned sixteen he thought it was time for a change, and cut it short. It was now a messy mop of slightly curly hair that was only just short enough not to get in his eyes when he fought.

He grabbed all three items, leaving the shelf bare for the first time in years. It had never been full of things, but it somehow looked emptier now than it had been when he first started living here.

He went to the chest, where he kept most of his practical things. Clothes, bags, even a few treats when some of the townsfolk saw fit to share with him. Sadly he didn’t have any at the moment, as he could rarely restrain himself for long when it came to sweets. He grabbed one of the bigger bags, a simple sack with a cinch to close it, and put his clothes and trinkets in there, layering them between two shirts so they were protected from bumps and jostles. He put a few extra bags in too, including a coin pouch with all the money he’d saved, just in case he found anything else he wanted to take that he’d rather not keep with his garments.

Straightening, he took one last look around the room, spinning in place and taking it all in. He did not know when he’d be here next, if at all, but he felt he’d be a different man when that time came.

And he left.

Setting a brisk pace through the halls he headed to the mess hall to grab a meal before his departure. Along the way he passed other knights, the ones he knew better giving him a word of encouragement or goodbye, the others only giving a smile or a nod as they passed. They all gave him his space, though. Today he was leaving for who knows how long, and the knights all respected that and left him be, allowing him the choice of who to talk to before he left, if anyone at all.

Truthfully, Alder wasn’t feeling much in the mood for talking, not even to some of the men he’d known most his life. The energy he’d had in the morning had left after his duel with Edward, leaving him in a funk as he got his meal and ate it mechanically. The food was bad, and he’d joked about it a hundred times with the others. “A dog could make it better!” he’d say, and laugh with the other as they put their own spin on it. But today the food, the same gruel it has always been, tasted just a little sweeter.

His hour was half-way spent already just from gathering his few belongings and eating his last meal and the second half flew by, seeming to pass faster now that he knew there was a limit, as cruel time does. He found himself before the gate, a squat thing, heavy and leaning slightly to one side, off-kilter. In his memory it seemed always strong, a shield to keep everything he didn’t want out of his home and his mind. Now it seemed to be just as it was: old. He stood staring, remembering it and all other places he’d been here, committing as much to memory as he could. He was afraid to lose it.

A heavy but gentle hand pulled him out of his reverie as it sat on his shoulder. Edward was there, as always he was but no longer would be. Alder would be on his own now. Edward’s hand guided him through the gate, outside to where a carriage was waiting, pulled by two chestnut horses and driven by one of the stablehands.

Edward watched Alder’s thoughts play across his face, able to follow them easily by now. “You’ll be just fine, Alder,” he said, and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll meet all kinds of people, from all kinds of places. I’m sure you won’t even think of me out there.” he chuckled after that last bit. Alder did too, just a little, as he recognized Edward was trying to lighten the mood.

Alder took one last look back at the fort, seeing the uneven walls, the leaning gate, the stocky building in the centre of it all alive with movement like an anthill. He gathered himself with a deep breath and nodded, a cheery smile returning to its home on his face.

He stepped into the carriage.

“I’m off then, Edward.”

“I look forward to the stories you’ll tell me.”