[40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 24]

Concentrate. Release. Concentrate. Release. Concentrate. Focus. Slash. Release

The training dummy was cloved in two. Climb eyes widened as he realized what he did

Alright!

He was glowing. This was in itself a difficult feat, but his sword was itself tarnished and bruised. Climb had focused the energies of his body into his blade. Not simply content to use it to merely harden the blade, as he struck the dummy, he released his ephemera through the steel and created a leading false cutting edge formed only from his body power. It was a more advanced technique, but Climb was dedicated to his craft.

A small round of applause came from a few palace guards who were watching him. They were not knights, but were a rare class of peasant professional soldiers. Because of this, they felt far below matters of faction or politics. Their bloodlines carried no weight, no title. These were, by way of rank and status, the only friends he had at the palace. The only friends he could have. Guard Ehkan, a stubby and round man in his mid forties, was the first to speak up.

“Fantastic Climb! That was impressive.”

Guard Jonnah, a thin and wiry man only three year’s Climb’s senior, spoke next.

“Seriously, Climb you’re great at this stuff.”

“You guys…”

“Look I know my words may not carry much weight among you youngsters, but Climb, you’re really becoming a formidable combatant.”

“I’m no warrior yet.”

“You will be.”

“No I-”

“Oh yes, we know. You’ve said it a dozen times before. ‘You’re only doing this for the Golden Princess; a perfect and beautiful woman who raised you out of a literal gutter and who has taken care of you your entire life.’ I swear if Ehkan hears that one more time he’s going to go deaf!”

Ehkan and Jonnah both burst into laughter, Climb managing to summon a none-too-bitter expression.

“It’s true.”

“I know it is, she’s all you talk about.”

“Seriously Climb. You don’t need to kiss her arse when she’s not around. She watches your training sessions enough as is, no need to summon her more!”

What?!

Ehkan elbowed Jonnah, who only realized he went too far in his jest as he doubled over. Seeing this, Climb swallowed the rebuttal sitting on his tongue; face slipping into an inner resentment. Ehkan and Jonnah were friends, but they were not close to him. In truth, the only person who was Renner herself.

How can he say that about her? She’s dedicated to the Kingdom, to its people. It’s not… sucking up to her to appreciate her. To dedicate myself to her.

“She saved my life.”

“Yes, yes. Forgive Jonnah, he's a little slow in the head. Doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I know you take this business with the Princess seriously. Climb, you’re impressive.”

“I want to be her guardian.”

“You will be. You will be.”

Climb struggled to take a compliment, but conceded the point with a smile. He went back to practice strikes. Over the next fifteen minutes, he managed to release another three strikes of comparable power. The pair watching him let out genuine cheers, but those relations tapered off into unease. He wasn’t a natural warrior, nor a gifted fighter; he was not a physical giant like the Warrior-Captain, nor would he grow into one. No, the thing that allowed Climb to expend such energy was willpower, and willpower alone. One such strike would tax most individuals’ constitution to their limit; a second strike would be lethal. Ehkan and Jonnah were not hot, and indeed were in shade, yet they both broke into a sweat. Upon his fifth such strike, they gave an awkward goodbye, and left. Climb was too exhausted to get out a coherent farewell.

A few seconds after they exited, Climb slowly slipped downward. Had he not used the tip of his sword to brace himself, he would have collapsed. He ended his descent in a kneel, finally able to rest.

Five. Hah, that’s good. That’s really good. I did well.

He sheathed his training sword, and lazily slicked the sweat from his hair. Beads of it rolled down his face; his tongue darted out, and grabbed the salty droplets. It mixed in his mouth with the flavors of blood and stomach acid, driven upward by the rigior of his training.

If I don’t stand up now, I’m going to fall asleep. I can’t let that happen.

He forced himself upward, an effort whose difficulty was magnified to titanic proportions by his exhaustion. Planting his feet on the stone below, he walked over to the weapons rack and unbuckled his sword.

I’m going to have to walk back to my bunk. Gods.

This was no more than three minutes, but at this moment, it was a task for the Thirteen Heros. He started to exit the room. Passing through the outer door, the sun struck suddenly and relentlessly. The royal palace was a place of beauty, and although training regimens would normally be conducted outside, they did little for the manicured tastes of nobles. Thus, all the activities of the guards and knights occurred in a large tower on the wall. Climb was the only one who was training, everyone else only attending the morning and night exercises. The heat of the day was overwhelming, but he forged onward.

Walking along the path laid aside for those in gear traveling from the main palace body and the wall, his gaze fell on the verdant lawns of the palace. A veritable host of groundskeepers were working at this moment, watering and clipping the lawn. In the far field of his vision, he spotted the flower garden that Renner had taken him to a few weeks ago.

Why did she place a flower in my hair? Was it really that cute?

He blushed at the memory, and finding his sojourn under the purview of the sun at an end, entered into the guardhouse. It was not actually separate from the palace itself, but was still cordoned from the gilded halls of true highblood. He walked past the break room, the armory, the cafeteria, the locker room, the first dormitory, and walked into dormitory two. He passed a number of guards, but also full knights who were rotating on guard duty. Unlike their Imperial counterparts, the Knights of the kingdom found their position through blood alone. Knight houses themselves were lesser to even Barons, yet even still bore some modicums of political leaning. They thus avoided Climb, knowing his unique and entirely untenable status as a no-blood servant to the Princess, at most side-eying him.

Climb arrived at his bunk, and stripped off his leather chestplate. Going to take off his underlayer, his hand brushed up against something hard and jagged in his shirt pocket.

Hah. I forgot to take the rocks out of my pocket. No wonder the walk was so difficult. I’m kinda stupid aren’t I?

Climb could not train in full plate. The practice plate the armory had on stock was too large for him. He needed to guard Renner in full plate however, and to train without this physical restriction in mind would have been foolish. To counter the issue of this lost weight, he had taken to stuffing his pockets to whatever rocks he could find. He now took those out, set them at the chest at the foot of his bunk, along with the rest of his underlayers sans undergarments, and slipped into bed. He was asleep within seconds.

—

Climb felt himself struggle in the mud. Torrential rain fell, unending. The fog obscured his vision, only the faint outlines of buildings and towering figures around him.

I’m cold. I need to get under something.

Climb started to walk down alleys and streets, looking for a place not exposed to the rain. He spotted an overhang and headed towards it, yet as he got under, he found it provided no protection. Looking upward, he saw that it had melted away into the gloom, raindrops falling on his face.

I’m so cold. I need someone to help me.

There were many passers by. Opening his mouth, he found he could not speak louder than a horse whisper. He tried to shout with all his might, and yet could barely make a sound.

I need help.

He desperately reached out to the looming people, yet he could not reach them. They moved so fast, and he couldn’t catch up to anyone. He grew uneasy, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

I’m in danger. Something is after me.

He turned around violently, trying to see anything in the mist that was after him. It was suddenly night, and the gloom turned into an abyss. There was no one else around him, everyone was gone. Climb broke into a run, trying to find some place to hide.

Help me! Help me! Help me!

He navigated the web of city streets and backways, finally arriving at the main street. There was nobody there. He heard a low growl. Out of the mist walked a dog. Not the manicured dogs of houses, but a mangy and scrappy street dog. It was so much larger than Climb, its fur torn and matted, scars and blood covering its face. Climb tried to scream, but that too came out a whisper. Turning to run he found his legs would not work, and he fell down almost immediately into the mud.

My face is stuck, I can’t breathe!

Climb struggled to pull his face out of the mud, unable to pull breath. His lungs burned. With everything he had, he rotated his head just enough to snatch a few short gasps. He felt the growling grow louder.

Your Highness help me! Your Highness!

“-Your Highness-”

He could only whisper. He felt a cold paw step onto his back, then a second.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die. Your Highness, please help me! Please, Your Highness, please!

He felt the hound bite his neck

“Renner help me!”

—

[40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 25]

Climb jerked awake, his heart racing. The all-encompassing tactile sensation of being conscious - the covers on top of him, the sweat on his forehead, the subtle urge to pee, the feeling of drawing in dry air - all grounded him in the moment. His mind was arrested violently, ripped back into reality in a way that while appreciated, was disconcerting.

That was a bad nightmare.

Climb rubbed his face, and let out a slow and calm breath. In moments like this, where he was at his weakest, Climb resorted to his warrior training. He forcibly slowed his breath, felt the flow of his body, and slipped into a light meditation. It helped him, and after doing so for two minutes, he felt more sure of himself. Opening his eyes, he let his mind address what had happened.

That’s the worst nightmare I’ve had in a while. Gods…

The room was dark, clearly nighttime. This did not surprise Climb, he had contented himself with the fact that he was to destroy his sleep schedule by going to sleep. Exhaustion had gripped him so deeply after the training he had no choice but to invert his waking and sleeping hours. Qualia rushed into him. His mouth felt bone dry, in need of hydration. His muscles screamed, sore and abused. The subtle urge to pee increased its volume until it was an undeniable need.

I’m not going back to sleep. Might as well get up.

Climb attempted to crunch into a sitting position, but he quickly regretted it. He understood little of the physio-alchemy behind it, but he knew that working out caused muscles to tear and secrete some caustic substance which flooded into those tears and hurt. Or so the court physician had said, it was over his head.

And something about that makes the muscles grow stronger? I’ll never know.

Climb mentally shrugged, and let the thought drift away. He committed himself to actually getting up this time, and after a few seconds of struggle to get into a sitting position, a minute of rest, and another few seconds of struggle to plant his feet on the flood, he found himself upright. He found his way to the chamberpot, walking past dozens of bunk'd snoring guards and knights who’s duty called them to spend the night in the guardhouse. He relieved himself, and felt a comparable decrease in his stress.

I’m thirsty as plains-grass on a summer day.

This was an undoubtedly rural analogy that Climb had picked up from Gagaran, but he liked the way it sounded, and silently chuckled to himself at the thought of him using it. Still, that did not abate his thirst, so he walked over to one of the available buckets in the corner of the room filled with drinking water. The men in this room very frequently woke up in the night needing water, either out of drunken slumbers or in the sort of muscular screaming Climb was currently experiencing. Thusly, they almost always hungered for water at night, and after a few infamous incidents where no one had remembered to bring in buckets of the stuff (and men made piecemeal dashes to the well across the palace throughout the breadth of the nocturne), they had elected a system of straws. Climb was not conscious to witness this, but Guard Gregor had drawn the short straw tonight, and dutifully carried back half a dozen sloshing buckets, one of which Climb was now ladeling into his mouth.

Better. I wonder what water Her Highness keeps in her room at night? Ah, wait. She has that glass pitcher of hers.

As a child, Climb had been granted the rare privilege to sleep with Renner, although more by her demand than anything else. She would grip him tight like a plush toy, and he would dutifully let her squeeze the life out of him. He remembered now that she did keep that glass pitcher by her bedside, satisfying his curiosity. A twinge of forelonging gripped him, and he tried his best to suppress it.

I ought not think such things. She’s not mine to be… jealous of.

Climb could never fully shake these thoughts, and so started off to his bedside to distract himself. Climb dressed, although it hurt. He was wide awake, and despite the soreness of his body, he knew lying in bed would only lead his mind to dark places. Finally huffing on his leather piece, he set off, intending to join the nightwatch for the evening.

Passing by the cafeteria, he looked inside to see if anything was left. A single lamp hung over the center table, and revealed the first fruits of summer. Clearly a palace official had a magnanimous whim (or was simply trying to offload spare produce that would otherwise rot on the vine), for there was actually fruit provided today. Climb went over to the basket and grabbed one with a thick and yellowish rind. Legend had it that the fruit he was holding, a ‘Yuzu’, was a food introduced by the Six Gods of the theocracy six-hundred years ago. It was still used in the Theocracy today, although never eaten straight as Climb now was. The cultivars that had made it to the Kingdom had lost much of their seeds, and as a result became much more comparable to other citrus fruits. He started to peel and eat it on the way out.

This is tasty, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a “Fruit of the Gods.”

Climb walked outside; with the dusk only recently completing itself, the air was still warm enough to be comfortable, and Climb walked to the palace wall. The night provided an unsettling deja vu, and Climb had to consciously dismiss the errant thought that he was still in his dream. He approached a pair of guards, who guided themselves with a lamplight. Although making no effort to be stealthy, he still startled them, and earned himself a rebuke.

“Hark! Who goes there?”

“Adjutant Guard of the Golden Princess Climb, sir.”

“Gods it's just you, you scared the daylights out of me.”

What daylight? Isn’t it night?

Climb mentally engaged in a little dry humor, trying his best to quell his embarrassment at sneaking up on his peers. ‘Adjutant Guard of the Golden Princess’ was his official title, one that Renner had given him. It carefully avoided any political pit traps, and was a mastercraft in weasel wording comparable to ‘Warrior-Captain’ - there was no actual ‘Guard of the Golden Princess’ for him to be the adjutant of. It was almost never used outside of formal settings where the Princess was made to argue for his presence, but Climb used it now as a clear identification of who he was.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep sir.”

“So you came out here looking for extra duty?”

The man snorted. Climb was now close enough to identify him as Knight Retha, an average-bodied man who was the head of the night-watch. His companion was Guard Alek, who was to Climb, nearly completely unremarkable.

“Yes sir. Anything I can do?”

“Not out here, no. A lot of men enjoying the night outside while it's warm. If anything, Head-Knight Jelka needs your help in the palace. Go bother him.”

Jelka was the defensive coordinator for the entire palace. Between that fact, Jelka’s status as a minor noble, and Climb’s position nearly outside the command chain, the idea that Jelka would ever so much as speak to him was absurd.

As if he knows I exist. Gods, why am I so bitter?

Climb’s emotions were mixing into strange shades. He normally would never entertain such dark thoughts. He had tried deeply to temper himself and his whims, and he had almost entirely succeeded.

“Yes sir, good luck on the watch.”

That nightmare really messed me up, didn't it?

Climb bowed, and departed towards the palace. Walking along a pathway that led to a larger entrance, he stopped with a start, remembering that he could look up. He lifted his gaze, scanning the sky. Climb swallowed. The sight stunned him.

It's beautiful.

His eyes drifted across the starfield, spotting stars and constellations. The moon was not visible tonight, so the stars themselves were alone in lighting the sky. Had he known more about astronomy, he would have been able to identify the planets, and he silently chided himself for having neglected what now seemed crucial teachings. He lost himself in the heavens for a moment, suddenly feeling tiny and powerless in the scale of the firmament. Emotions brewed in his soul, a strange feeling filling his breast.

I feel empty.

Powerlessness at the sight of the cosmos turned into impotence in all aspects in his life. He felt useless. He was so distant from the Princess, from the woman who saved him. She had confided her father’s words to her, that she would be getting married soon. That had sent him into turmoil beyond his ability to express.

Why does she have to marry someone she doesn’t want to? Why does she have to marry? Why can’t I stay by her side? Why was I born a commoner?

He began to cry.

It’s unfair. It’s unfair! I care for her! I care for her so much! Why do I have to be thrown away?! Why do they have to hate me?! What have I done? Have I not served her and the King loyally? Am I not a dedicated warrior?! Why can’t I be a knight? Why can’t I be her knight?

His face fell, slipping down to look at the ground.

Why can’t I be by her side forever?

He was grateful for the moon’s absence that night, it cast no light on the world that could illuminate his face. He dried his face, and braced himself. He continued towards the palace, but with less vigor than before. Approaching the gate guard, he didn’t bother to identify himself, nor did he need to. He recognized Climb and let him through with a silent wave. Climb felt slightly guilty about not turning to the man to see who it was, but dismissed the thought. He had already granted himself permission to disregard his mental etiquette tonight.

Climb walked along familiar corridors, he knew this way by heart. His mind drifted back to the nightmare.

It’s always on the streets I grew up on. I never have nightmares of the palace. Aren’t I supposed to?

Climb pondered this. In truth, the character of his nightmares had never changed. He didn’t remember any from before Renner found him, those having melded into the haze of actual young-childhood happenings. No, the nightmares he had were in the time since he came to the palace. They were never of Renner being in danger, nor of daring courage on the field of battle; never some fear she would probably find cute if she heard it. They were always him back on the streets, the labyrinthine lattice of his childhood forever burned into his subconscious.

I hate it so much. Why will I never be free of that place?

Mongrels were a frequent antagonist in his dreams, alongside cats and rodents. It didn’t help that he had encountered and been bitten by curs several times as a child. He couldn’t reconcile such beasts with the gentle and pampered animals of the palace, choosing to embrace his dissonance, and never so much as interacting with the four-legged housekin. No, the only animals he was truly comfortable with were horses. This served him well as a warrior, and he was grateful for this.

He passed a maid who, as always, side-eyed him. This was common behavior for the palace denizens, a look he had received many times before. He quelled his anger. He ascended up several back-flights of stairs, up two stories from the ground. Rounding the corner, he spotted the nightwatchman outside of Renner’s room. Tonight it was Knight Gerheart. Gerheart himself was a member of Gazef’s Warrior Troop, and although a full blooded knight, respected Climb as a result. Gazef was also a commoner, and those men that followed behind him in battle had abandoned all consideration of status as a determiner of respect. While Gazef was at the palace, as he was now, the troop supplemented the King’s Royal Guard, relieving them of lesser duties of guarding the Second Prince and Third Princess. Spotting Climb, Gerheart cocked his head.

“Guard Climb, was I granted relief?”

“No. I just came by to check on Her Highness.”

Gerheart raised an eyebrow, attempting to discern the cause behind Climb’s arrival. Gerheart was himself, not fully human. Somewhere along his muddled bloodline was an elven ancestor, and although far less than Half-Elf, he still retained some features of his mixed descent. Besides slightly elongated ears and somewhat sharpened facial features, he possessed the remnant of a latent darkvision. This is how he identified Climb with ease, although he was not bearing a lightsource. Combine this with the Elven resistance to sleep, which unfortunately manifested in an inescapable insomnia, and it made Gerheart a perfect choice for night-watch. This made him a social pariah comparable to Climb, and although their interactions were rare and fleeting, they felt a sort of kinship.

“Oh? Why are you here? I’ll have to report this to Captain Stronoff.”

“That’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came up here?”

“Yes. Look, could I stand guard with you?”

Gerheart’s face twisted into a smirk. He understood what Climb meant. Rumors of the Golden Princess having an unusually loyal bodyguard and the evidence in front of him coalesced on his face.

“Ah. Yes, that would be alright.”

Gerheart stepped slightly to his right, and Climb stepped in tandem to fill the gap he created. They stood in parallel, guarding the Golden Princess.