As they folded their clothes and packed their belongings into the same few bags they had arrived with, Atti felt a twinge of disappointment. They hadn't accumulated as much wealth as he had hoped, but he knew that sometimes life has a funny way of working out. With a hopeful smile, Atti looked into the window. Only the Sun knows what the future holds.
Another part that dimmed his happiness was leaving his daughter with Zeon's family. Pastor Dion told Atti that this trip would only take a few months and they would be back in no time. Leaving his daughter here was a sound suggestion. Zeon was a teacher, a very smart lad, and had a kid himself. And his hysterical wife seemed to come to her senses after the ritual. His daughter would be fine with them, right?
When they approached the teacher's house, Atti waved to Zeon. The man was waiting outside, Zaira dutifully standing to his side. Atti passed the woman a bag with Arlene's belongings.
"Say goodbye to mommy, my little dove." Atti hugged his daughter. "And remember, no tricks here, ok?" he whispered in her ear, before pushing her towards Airic.
Their goodbyes were hard to watch. Arlene tugged on Airic's hand, and a woman bent down, abruptly, like she was going to fall. Arlene went on her tippy toes, hugging her mother. But Airic' face remained blank, her hands hanging limp. Arlene stepped away and started sobbing.
"Enough."
Atti did not have time, nor patience, to deal with it right now. They were late.
"Go to Zaira now. Behave yourself and we will be back soon!"
"Yes, father," his daughter said, still sobbing.
Atti turned around, rubbing his ribcage.
"Time to go now!"
He and the other chosen men with their wives gathered in a convoy as they set off on the journey towards the castle.
***
Late spring forest was alive with the vibrant colors of new growth. The sunbeams streamed through the canopy, casting dappling shadows on the ground. The sweet smell of blooming flowers mixed with the woody scents created a refreshing and calming aroma. Atti breathed with his full chest. It was nice to get out of the village. He missed the woods.
They traveled the entire day. The road was still muddy and Atti had to help get carriages out of the sludge too many times to count. By the time they reached the meadow that Bruno's team usually used on the way to town, the sun was long gone. Stars shone brightly in the sky and Atti was aching to doze off.
They put the wagons in a circle and rearranged the goods, so more people would fit. Atti lifted a sack of sowing wheat to move it to the head of the wagon and marveled at how heavy it seemed.
He used to move buckets with ore all day long, and it never bothered him. And now a sack of food was too heavy? This training sword training did nothing good for his strength.
He stumbled out of the wagon and searched for Airic—he ordered her to bring more wood for the fire ages ago. Woman was standing near the rim of the forest, looking into the darkness beneath trees, rubbing her hand. Again.
"Hye! Time to sleep now!"
She swiveled on a spot and almost fell. But recovered quickly and walked to the wagon, eyes down.
Nothing in this woman reminded him of the gracious dove he fell in love with. Bruno said that in the castle they will be living in separate barracks. Maybe it was for the best. Atti was getting tired of taking care of her every step.
They were on the road for four more days. Every day bringing them closer to the border. The rest of the nights they stayed at inns and hamlets along the way.
Menace of war looming over everyone here: food supply seemed scarce. People spoke in hushed tones, suspiciously eyeing strangers. Despite the tension, Atti was grateful for the roof over his head.
Near the castle, they encountered another caravan of men traveling to their training post. Their grim faces did not show any faith in the great mission. Atti recalled how hard life was without faith. And thanked his fortune for bringing the Sun Congregation into his life.
He had to grip the reins of his wagon tightly to keep him from falling off when they hit another pit on the road. His hands started trembling yesterday, and he suspected that the cold and the hardships of the travel in the early spring were taking a toll on his body. They had to pull out one or two carriages out of the mud every day. The rhythm of the horses' hooves thudded in his head, exacerbating headache.
Atti looked up and sighed with relief. The forest had ended. In front of him was a massive castle, the biggest he had ever seen.
When his dad trained him, he dreamed of working in a place like this. To have a wife, many children and the respect of a Lord for his talents. But Airic was a witch, and the local Lord did not want any of that under his roof. So they had to settle for villages and hamlets. And move; move a lot.
Castle walls towered over the convoy, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch on for miles. Moss was dripping from the stone, like a fringe of a tapestry. The castle's imposing gates loomed into view. Atti could hear the creaking of the hinges as they opened to welcome them.
As the caravan entered, he marveled at the grandeur of the interior yard. It was bustling with activity: people and animals moving about their business.
"Wait here."
Bruno told them as he jumped off the carriage. Atti leaned back in his seat, looking around.
To the right were horse stables, and a blacksmith's forge with a man hammering away at a piece of metal. The clanging of metal on metal, snorting of horses, and chatter of people filled the air with a constant buzz.
To his left was a well, with a line of people waiting to filling their buckets. Beyond the well was a small garden, with herbs and flowers planted in neat rows.
In the center of the courtyard was a large, open space where two people in expensive clothing were training with swords. Small cheering crowd gathered nearby. The sound of clashing metal filled the air.
It was tempting to stay and observe, but Atti's back was yearning for a soft bed and stomach for warm food.
"Stop gawking and get off your wagons," a low voice pulled him out of the daydreaming. A tall man that reminded Atti a little of his father with his broad shoulders and grey neat beard was standing in front of them. "Common, we have to unload these and settle you in the barracks before the dark."
"Where is Bruno?" Galahad asked.
"He is busy with the Lord. Now move your ass if you don't want to spend the night here."
Atti did not enjoy being spoken to in this tone. But he also did not want to spend the night in the yard, so he jumped off the wagon, and helped Airic to come down.
"My name is Finn Baas. I will be responsible for your group while you are in these walls. Noone is entitled to slack at the Breka Castle. You get up as the sun rises, get your food, and gather here in the yard for your morning training routine. Now, I heard you are praying every morning. And I do not care what you do, as long as you are here and ready to be trained when the sun is up…"
Man continued giving them instructions, as they unloaded the wagons, moved them to the backyard and unharnessed the horses. He herded men into the barracks on the right side of the yard, women on the left.
Atti stumbled when he saw a man in the shackles lying motionless near their barracks. Inflamed, red furrows covered his body. He wore nothing but loose linen pants and Atti shivered. The air was still chilly.
"This is your reminder, so you don't get any ideas."
"Deserter" was branding a man's shoulder.
Hunched back, filthy hair and the smell of old piss made him feel sorry for this person.
Atti looked away, eyes landing on his wife's gray back, disappearing in the female barracks. A pin of relief immediately drowned in guilt. And the burn in his chest came back.
Atti rested his hand on the guard of his sword and shook his head. There were more important things to do, like getting a straw mattress from a bag in the corner.
The barracks were dim. Men's voices echoed off the cold stone walls, and the scent of sweat and leather hung heavy in the air. He missed the warmth and comfort of his own home.
Nevertheless, Atti was looking forward to tomorrow's training. Finn told them that they will get a chance to train with the real master-at-arms. Bruno's people were good, but nothing would compare to a master who trained knights and the Lord himself!
***
Atti woke up to the sound of a bell ringing in the distance. It was still dark outside, but he knew it was time to get ready for the day. Over the past few weeks Atti used to raising at this time. Often he woke up before the bell ring rolled over them.
He stirred off the straw mattress and dressed up. The walk down the stone corridor and up the stairs to the training grounds was way too short. His breath left his mouth in a white, hazy cloud, visible even in the pale light before the crack of the dawn. He joined a group of men kneeling in a circle on the ground.
He drew his sword and leaned on the guard. Attis' hands squeezed the handle: he couldn't wait to get the much-needed boost of energy.
The last two weeks were exhausting. Atti was used to routine training with Bruno and his right hand, Willem. But the training that the masters-at-arms took them through was much more grueling.
Every muscle in his body hurt. Also, Atti still hasn't decided if this is something that he truly wanted.
On the very first morning in the castle Finn introduced them to the shocking news: they are not going home, they will join knits in the campaign. His loud: "Join the holy fight!" still rung in Atti's head.
He did not consider deserting and abandoning his friends, no. But he also hasn't come to terms with leaving his wife and daughter alone for so long.
War was something Atti never planned for himself. He never had to take away a life. And he already gave up so much. Gave up one of the most precious things he had—his son. Wouldn't it be logical to just join the campaign at this point?
The golden beam of the rising sun reached his eyes. It was time. He lifted his arms, extending the sword that seemed to be getting heavier every day into the air.
The words of the Sun Congregation Blessing rolled off his tongue. A sense of peace and gratitude filled his aching body. He smiled at the surge of energy. Now he was ready to face whatever challenges awaited.
"Everyone grabbing your shields now! All got your blessing. Now get to work. We only have one more week to go!"
Finn's voice racketed through the courtyard, and the daily drill began.
Bruno decided to join them today. He rarely went out of the castle this early. And his team only joined them for the afternoon practice with the master-at-arms.
Atti swung a sword, parrying an imaginary attack, and caught a glimpse of familiar golden shine. A young boy was leaning over the railing of the minstrels' gallery. Every morning he was observing their practice.
His fair hair reflected the morning light. A fine velvet tunic and a golden chain around his neck indicated his high status. A habitual ping of pain shut through Atti's chest and he stopped his practice for a moment to catch a breath.
A man came up to a boy and rested a hand covered in a dark leather glove on his shoulder. A dark blue cloak with fur lining and embellishment protected him from the morning cold. The Lord of the castle came out to observe them train. Atti started his practice again, eager to impress.
With the corner of his eye, Atti noticed that the son and the father were talking. Boy's eyes traced their every move. Finally, a couple disappeared inside the castle. Atti relaxed and focused his full attention on the instructor.
"My Lord!"
He heard Bruno's loud voice in a distance and span to see what was happening. His opponent's sword hit on his shield with a dull bang. Abraham managed to turn the blade flat at the last moment, seeing that Atti got distracted.
Lord Breka was talking to Bruno. His words did not reach Atti's ears. Bruno bent down and shook his head. Odd. The man never disagreed with people holding money and power.
"… don't understand, my Lord! This is not a … dangerous!"
Lord raised his hand, stopping Bruno's plea. Silence hung in the air. Everyone observed, waiting for Lord's next move.
"Which sword do you like, my dear child?"
"That one!"
Small pale hand pointed in the air and everyone stepped away, forming a path towards the boy-s aim—Atti's sword.
"Villager! Come!"
It didn't register when he made his first step. The Lord just had this hue about him. There was now way to disobey. But then he moved closer and closer—his stiff knees were snapping straight after each step. It felt like he was wading through deep waters.
No one except him touched his sword ever since Enoch planted it into his hands. Until now, Atti didn't even realize how attached he became to the artefact. It felt like a piece of him.
Tight knot squeezed inside Atti's chest. Please don't take it away—he wanted to cry. But his lips clung together, as if he drank glue instead of water this morning.
His hand with the sword went numb. Atti looked at it to ensure he was still holding the guard. He was squeezing the handle so tight his knuckles went white.
"Ma Lord, please! Allow me at least to set everything properly, otherwise your son will get injured."
"So there was a way? Set it up now! I don't have a whole day."
"Bring his wife!" Bruno ordered Willem.
"Stop gawking and go back to your practice!" Finn's order set thighs into motion.
People went back to their business, but Atti stayed frozen in the middle, gaze fixed on the castle door.