Weytenford Castle. 20 minutes after the end of the battle.

Down the narrow streets in the inner part of the castle, a young knight walked. Anyone who saw him would be surprised, so handsome and graceful was he. His straight posture, silver hair, blue eyes, and skin as if molded of pure jade. Thin eyebrows, light blond stubble, and a face like that of the god Apollo. To make matters worse, however, the knight was constantly looking around in fear and tension as he stepped forward. He seemed to be afraid of being attacked or of being jumped out of a corner. As he continued walking forward, he suddenly heard crying. He stopped in surprise. It was the crying of a child. With a puzzled face he moved toward the sound of that crying to see what was going on.

As soon as he stepped into the next street he saw a picture: in the middle of a wide street, on the paving stone, a man, or rather a knight, or rather a bloody mess, was lying on the pavement. Beside him, hunched over the body, a young boy sat on his knees and wept uncontrollably. From afar, Arthur could hear the child speak through his cries.

*...* * Sobbing * * Sobbing * ...Woah... Sir Cristraaan!!!" the voice was tearing and almost on the verge of breaking.

Arthur stopped a few feet away from this scene and wondered where he might have heard that name. Right. He remembered. Fat, ugly, a Lord from a beggarly aristocratic family. Arthur remembered that this Cristran had pissed him off just by his looks and his thick mustache. And his behavior... reminded Arthur of an unwashed and rude pig. In short, Arthur had no pity for him. However, he was curious, who was that little boy next to the body? Stretching his brain, he could barely get a small image out of his mind, a silhouette standing behind the fat Cristran's back.

A squire, then, huh?

Putting a friendly smile on his face, he walked up behind the sobbing boy and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, the boy flinched and turned abruptly. In his hand was a sword, in his wet eyes was fear. The boy, examining the one who had touched his shoulder, quickly fidgeted and got down on one knee.

- Squire Jack, Sir Cristran's servant, greets the most honored Sir Arthur!"

- Easy, Squire Jack, I see your grief, so no need for unnecessary formalities," said Arthur with a soft smile, his face seemed holy to Jack.

- You'd better tell me what happened here?" asked Arthur, pointing his silver blade at the body of the chopped-up Cristran.

Jack looked sadly at Cristran's body, and after wiping snot away with his shirt, began his story: "Me and Sir Cristran, at the beginning of the battle fought on the wall, after a while, the battle took over the city streets, and we were forced to retreat there. Then... then we were surrounded by eight enemy warriors, we were in a ring, Sir Cristran..." his speech broke off at the last words and he cried again.

".... And Sir Critstran, he... managed to kill five of them. Then we heard footsteps and we thought that the enemies were approaching with reinforcements, the only thing left for us to do was to run deep into the castle, looking for help... We ran and... and halfway through, I lost sight of Sir Cristran, and when I found him... he was dead. They killed him, and I couldn't protect him! What kind of squire am I if I can't protect my master? It is my fault... mine!" Jack began to pound his fist hard on his head, tears and snot pouring out of him.

Arthur, not knowing what to do in such a situation, simply put his beautiful, effeminate palm on the boy's head and said: "It's not your fault Jack, it's the fault of those who killed him, don't torture yourself, you can't change anything..."

After these words, Jack's figure faintly trembled, and with huge puppy-dog eyes he looked up at Arthur's face from below. Their gazes met for a moment, and Jack, with a single movement, wrapped Arthur in his arms and began to sob on his chest. Arthur's face wrinkled to resemble lain raisins, his eye twitched and his breathing quickened. With a swift movement, he threw Jack off him and feverishly began to peel the invisible dirt from his breastplate.

- E-excuse sir..." said Jack in an apologetic tone. Arthur made no reply.

- Sir Arthur... I don't know what to do now... Now that Sir Cristran is gone, no one can protect me, a clumsy squire like me, no one needs me anymore. Without my lord, I will either be sold into slavery, or the mines, or a brothel..." cried Jack again.

Arthur shot a glance at young Jack. The squire was covered in dirt and blood, unkempt and smelly, but even all of the above could not hide his natural cuteness. Arthur thought it would be nice to have a personal squire to throw all the routine chores on, it was almost like having a personal slave. Arthur licked his lips and smirked. And moreover, such a handsome squire would suit his style and the image he had created in the society among the high-society ladies well. With his chest furrowed, he drew his sword from its sheath and pointed it imperiously at Jack. The latter, with dilating pupils staring at what was happening, could not believe his eyes.

- Jack, the squire. Do you swear, to protect your mighty and beautiful master, which is me, Sir Arthur?"

Pulling himself together, Jack answered in a serious tone, "I swear!"

- Do you swear, to serve and obey your only master and no one else?"

- I swear!"

- Then Jack. From this day forward, you become my squire and the squire of the Bale family! Now, kiss the ring with my family crest on it and you will complete your oath!"

Jack did so, on one knee, he kissed the ring on Arthur's outstretched hand, thus agreeing to become his squire.

- That's good! Now Jack, leave your former master and go find our commander." Turning around, Arthur strode off in the opposite direction from Jack.

Jack stared at his back, examining, his tear-stained face, now expressionless, his gaze suddenly fell on Arthur's sword. It was crystal clear, not a single drop of blood. Thinking about it, he couldn't remember seeing any trace of blood on his armor at all.

- Wait, Sir Arthur! Hold!" shouted Jack, waving his thin arms as he went.

- Huh? What is it?" Turning around in displeasure asked Arthur.

- Y-your armor and your sword! There's no blood on them!" said Jack, pointing his finger at Arthur's sword.

- Yes? So what of it?"

- If other knights see that you have no blood or marks on you, they might think you haven't fought or avoided combat at all and have been sitting in some dark corner! Which is not true, is it, Sir Arthur? And we don't need that kind of attention," Jack's voice had a flattering tone to it.

-Yes? -Hmm. Now that you mention it... Yes, indeed. That's a problem. What do you suggest?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Jack didn't answer, instead his mouth turned into a huge "O" It looked as if he'd had a sudden epiphany, the only thing missing was the glowing light bulb above his head. Quickly looking around, Jack trudged back to Sir Cristran's body. Running up to him, Jack unceremoniously thrust his hand into his chest, he moved his hand inside Cristran's ribcage to gather more blood, and after a second, fumbling for something, he pulled a bloody heart from the dead body. After examining the heart, he nodded to himself and walked toward Arthur with a businesslike look. As he approached at arm's length, he squeezed the heart in his hand and began rubbing the heart, over Arthur's armor.

-W-what are you doing!?" screamed Arthur in disgust.

- I'm smearing you with the blood of your enemies Sir," said Jack in a humdrum tone as he continued to rub the blood on the armor.

When he was done with the armor, he clenched his fist with all his might, dark, almost black blood oozing from the heart. With a gesture he asked Arthur for his sword, the latter gave it to him without any hesitation. Jack raised his bloody fist over the blade of the sword and blood began to trickle down onto it. Noticing that there wasn't enough blood, with a relaxed face, he walked back to Cristran's body and stabbed the sword into him a couple of times.

Jack's behavior was strange. But not to Arthur. Arthur was completely ignorant of human feelings, much less children's feelings. For him, his only interest was women and what lay beneath their outfits, and alcohol. He had seen children a couple of times in his life and they did not seem cute to him, on the contrary, to him they looked like stupid dirty maggots, with the same dirty parents. So watching Jack's actions, they didn't seem strange to him. Sure, he noticed something, but he just thought it was the normal behavior of children. He'd been told that their moods were changeable and fickle, anyway, for now, he looked at Jack, who was smearing blood all over him, like a precious discovery he'd found in the dirt.

Finished with the blood bath, Jack said in his usual childish voice: "Done!"

Arthur lowered his pointed chin and examined himself. The beautiful armor, molded from small pieces of mithril, now took on a dark scarlet hue, and the sword, once radiating with its appearance of elegance, now emitted an ominous aura. The corners of Arthur's lips quirked upward.

Now, Uncle Marcus will appreciate and praise me! I can't wait to meet him!

- Good work, Jack! Let's go!" said Arthur, whistling, and galloping off toward what he thought was the camp of the surviving defenders.

Behind him, his squire Jack turned to take one last look at Cristran's corpse.

His face exuded an icy calm, but after a second, he grinned, his teeth bared, making his lips as thin as a line, his face now resembling a hellish fiend who had tipped another sinner into his hellish cauldron.

- Come on! Let's go!" Sounds of Arthur's receding voice reached Jack.

In an instant, Jack put on his usual childish mask of naivety and mild fear, then ran clumsily after Arthur.

***

Weytenford Castle. Main Square.

On a huge wooden platform, in front of a crowd of wounded knights, stood an elderly man with a gray beard and the same gray hair. The old man's appearance was poor. One arm was completely missing, a gag dangling in its place. A stream of blood trickled from his closed eye. In the center of his chest armor was a huge cut, through which you could see the old man's heaving, bloody chest. He stood atop it, frowning at the surviving defenders. It was Marcus Bale, the commander of this castle's defenses.

From all corners of the castle, slowly, limping, the survivors flocked. Marcus could barely count a hundred of them, and he was worried by the fact that his nephew, Arthur, wasn't to be seen among them. The bushy gray eyebrows dipped lower and lower with each passing second. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure in the distance; looking closer, he identified Arthur in the figure. Marcus jumped off the perch, spitting out a small clot of blood from his landing, and strode towards Arthur.

As he passed the crowd of soldiers, Marcus stopped, Arthur standing in front of him, a young boy behind him. Marcus had seen this boy somewhere... but he couldn't remember where. Marcus, along with the knights around him, threw curious, studying glances at Arthur, seeing that he was covered in blood from head to toe, Marcus and the others nodded approvingly.

- Arthur! My boy! How are you? And who's that behind your back?" asked Marcus affectionately, almost with a fatherly tone.

- Uncle Marcus." Arthur said in a ringing voice, and with reverence, he lowered his head to the Commander.

- I, Arthur Bale, have defeated the lowly enemies standing in the way of our great Empire of Diolas! With my own sword, I crushed and decapitated the infidels of Mersians, don't worry Uncle, those weak mortals could not inflict a single wound on me before my sword could reach them!" Arthur's speech was imbued with patriotism, his figure, reminiscent of a war hero stepped out of a painting. In truth, though, Arthur was merely copying a knight's pose from a painting he'd once seen while pleasuring another noble maiden in bed.

- Behind me, my new squire. A new squire and servant of the Bale family. Named Jack. He showed courage in battle and saved my life, so I took him into our family, as a sign of my gratitude and respect for his bravery." Saying this, he moved slightly away so Marcus could get a better look at little Jack.

Jack trembled, unable to find the strength to look the commander in the eye. Marcus stared at him for a second, then pretended that Jack didn't exist at all.

- "Well, well done Arthur, you'll tell me more about your exploits later, over a glass of red wine, but right now we need to talk about.....

***

Jack stood in the back and listened to what Marcus was saying. Hearing nothing of interest and losing interest, he turned his gaze to the gray sky, up there, a flock of geese were flying in a slow stream in a wedge, their quacking sound faintly audible. His mind was blank. Turning his head, he looked at Arthur, whom Marcus was now praising so much. Jack's chest snapped and he suffered, but no one cared about the little squire. There was no one in Jack's life who was interested in his feelings or thoughts, he was lonely. The only thing he knew was the ever alternating masters and sirs, the aristocrats, every last one of them narcissistic bastards. With a deep sigh he looked again at the freely moving geese.

Going wherever they wanted to go. Heh. Freedom... Maybe... someday... But for now... it's time to serve a new master, and trust me, my services come at a high price, Arthur.

With a meaningful smile, he walked up to Arthur, smiled radiantly, and took the sword from him. Arthur, ignoring the servant, continued his conversation. Jack stood behind Arthur and waited, while he waited he looked at his sword, in the reflection, through the blood of Cristran, he saw a smiling boy and he knew that in the reflection he was looking at the squire, named Jack.