A Knight in Rusty Armor (and in love)

[5] Breakfast of Champions

I'm woken up at the crack of dawn by a loud bugle. It sounds like a royal guard is walking up and down the hall and playing as loud as he can. Under any other circumstances, I'd be less than happy about being jerked awake this way, but I feel well-rested thanks to the quality of my bed. I'm reluctant to leave it.

I take care of my basic hygienic rituals, throw on my clothes, and pack up the rest of my things, including the brand-new knife I got from a blacksmith in town (it's a lightweight weapon that I can easily conceal). We don't have to don our full armor until later. That stuff is way too heavy for something like eating breakfast. The fare this time should be lighter, as we don't want to get weighed down with greasy food, and the King won't be present. Even so, the guarantee of one last warm and proper meal is enticing.

Once I'm in the hallway, I run into a guy I haven't seen up close yet. His skin is dark, and his hair is made up of very tight curls that are neatly trimmed and shaved close to his head. He looks like he has facial hair, which makes me think for a moment that he's significantly older than me. A closer look at his lanky build and his gait, too casual to fit in with this environment, suggest that he is, like me, a teenager. And on closer inspection, his beard is very thin, more like a five-o-clock shadow. Like Ezekiel and Samuel, he wears glasses, but his are more modern-looking, with thick black frames that make his dark eyes seem to pop.

I'm not actually sure what his name is. He wasn't in the courtyard when Ezekiel was introducing me to people, and he was seated far away from me at dinner. The best thing to do, I figure, is strike up a conversation.

"Hey," I call out casually. He slows down to allow me to catch up with him. "You headed to breakfast?"

"Where else would I be headed?" For a second, I recoil, thinking that he's insulting my intelligence. But then he flashes a cheeky grin. "I'm just messing with you— yeah, I'm going to breakfast. Seating isn't assigned this time. You can sit with me if you'd like. I haven't had a chance to talk to you, and you seem pretty harmless."

I smile. He seems... Well, really chill. Like the kind of guy that you can talk to about anything.

"I'd like that. Before we do that, though... What's your name?"

He laughs. His laugh is warm and loud, filling up the hall, but it doesn't seem forced.

"Bartholomew," he answers, "but it's a mouthful, so most people just call me Barry. Family's the House of Kingston."

My mouth forms an o. Daniel said that he recruited this guy to the fellowship after the feast last night, so I know that I can trust him.

The House of Kingston is mostly known for being huge. They perform decently in tournaments. They never seem to win, but this doesn't deter them from entering again— the family is so big that they've always got at least a few tournament-age men ready to compete.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Bartholomew suddenly adds, "and it's true. I've got eight siblings, and more aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews than I can count."

"Wow. I can't imagine that— I've always been an only child. Are you the oldest?"

"I've got three older siblings. The other five are younger than me. My two oldest siblings already have a bunch of kids of their own."

I laugh and shake my head. I'm not sure if I should be jealous, or if I should feel sorry for him. Having that many siblings probably means having to share bedrooms and bathrooms, right? At least I get my cot in the corner of the basement all to myself.

"...Do you like having such a big family?" I ask timidly. He laughs again. He probably gets that question all the time.

"Oh, it's definitely got its downsides sometimes. They seem to love to embarrass me, but, hey, that's only because they love me so much. I'll probably have lots of kids myself. I wouldn't trade my big happy family for anything."