Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 2 The Enemy Returns

Festivities

Brokenarrow had become alive once again. As the day slowly rolled into the evening, and the people came out in droves to prepare for the coming banquet, and festivals, Anyone could feel the palpable energy flowing in the air. Why would there not be? It is such a rare occasion that a knight is chosen within the plains, it is practically a requirement that celebrations must be had. Lyse has experienced many birthdays and other events where he was at the center of it all. But those were always focused just on his family and himself, with some blessings given by the other townsfolk. But tomorrow was different. It was just too surreal, to think so much could be done for just one person. As he saw tables being dragged into the central courtyard, tents being raised just for games, and musicians tuning their instruments to prepare their fanfare. Lyse even noticed some of his favorite tunes being practiced, no doubt commissioned by his parents. Lyse was just left standing near the fountain, watching it all unfold around him. Every now and again, some people would walk up to give their congratulations and blessings. Even the girls from the town who found their courage confronted him. Lyse politely agreed to dance with a few of them, and he received a lot of small treats to fill him already before the banquet. But he was looking out for someone else, at the moment. Then his eyes drifted to his father.

Lyse had heard that his father had planned all this out beforehand. He was not surprised at all. A man like Wilbur is owed a lot of respect from the town. Not just for being a farmer, not at all. But he himself once had been in the same exact position that Lyse had been in. A plainsman accepted to train to be a knight. Even serving with the king briefly during the civil war, he was a legacy to live up to regardless. Where he pointed, people moved. When he spoke, people listened. And when he wanted things done, by Fate it shall be done. He was a natural-born commander, and his old life, though left behind, bled into his mundane dealings. Lyse couldn't help but smile, how could he not? His father observed as people brought forth long narrow tables where food shall be placed, and his mother at his side making sure everything look presentable. The temporary podium set up near the fountain he sat at laid empty, but it shall be from there that Gabbes would announce who has been accepted as a knight. Lyse rubbed his palms comprehensively now. Though they have healed from the shallow cut from his blade, their impact still resonated within him. He felt anxious, on the balls of his feet. He reached for his pendant once more, and like many times before, its warm glow comforted him. But on the edge of that same comfort, he sensed danger as well. And as he rose from his sitting position, he felt two presences make themselves known to him. From behind.

And not to his surprise did he immediately see a pie being flung at him from across the fountain. He sighed, batting it aside with a hand. But, you see, this was merely a diversion. A shout, along with rapid footsteps of a man wielding a wooden practice sword. Lyse took his own from his side, blade still in the scabbard. The man sliced at him, but Lyse stepped away from the blow and dodged. He took the pommel of his sword and jammed it into the man's shoulder blade. He gave out a wheezing cough before falling like a sack of potatoes. He heard another shout, a female one as a woman ran from behind the door. Lyse smiled as she ran up and tapped him on his nose, stepping back cautiously with a mischievous smile.

"I got him," she said to the man lying on the floor. She seemed his age, young and beautiful. Her blond hair streams down her back like a river of gold. She didn't wear much elaborate clothing, but one look at her brought meaning to the word elegant. Her noble blood was very apparent in her delicate fingers, polished nails, and even some jewelry upon her fingers. Her simple red dress is made of fine clothes. The man at Lyse's feet coughed again. He was much ruddier looking. His nestled brown hair looked unkempt and unwashed from sweat. His grin flashed through the pain proudly, though he struggled to stand up. His dark green eyes looked at his two friends as he dusted off his formerly white shirt and brown trousers. He was Edlund, his adoptive brother, and the closest friend he has in this little town.