1 Willum

With the clunk of wood striking wood and a heavy thud, Belgarast was down on the ground of the Keep's outer courtyard. Before he could get up Willum planted his leather boot on his chest; thrusting him back down to the sound of clapping from the gathering of knights and squires. The noise died down after a moment.

After removing the training helm and shaking out his hair, Willum said in his oftentimes commanding yet inspiring and deeply loud voice, "the parry followed by two quick yet forceful strikes often overwhelms and knocks your opponent down, Dorial."

Dorial, his squire, a young boy with blonde hair and button nose, nodded as he looked on in awe of the Prince.

Belgarast looked up too at the Duke's son. His curly black hair finally free after removing the training helm; an open face iron helm with nose and cheek guards which contrasted the thick wooden training armor.

Willum finally removed his foot from Belgarast and he stumbled to his feet.

"Again!" Belgarast said in his tenacious yet young voice, taking the wooden long sword and assuming a battle stance.

Willum turned to him. "I only used you in demonstration. This was no duel, Belgarast."

Belgarast eased as the eyes of the crowd bore on him, and embarrassment slowly crept in.

"Come now, everyone, we should grab supper in the keep and start our afternoon duties" Willum said and the crowd followed him, leaving Belgarast behind.

Belgarast took off the helm, allowing noon's breeze to blow on his face and the partially clouded sun to paint his cheeks in its light. Everyone was so in love with the Prince and his squire; visiting Baron Ganador's keep. However, Belgarast suspected him being royalty had something to do with their boot licking. And the wedding of course.

Belgarast made his way from the circular dirt sparring ring of the outer courtyard and made his way to the inner wall of the castle, down the dirt paths and past the wooden stables and buildings spread through the grassy courtyard populated with the hands and the others who attended the castle. When not training his mind always found its way to the wedding. Prince Willum Cindiel and the ever beautiful Charlotte Ganador. After the wedding in three days time, which tradition dictates it happens at the bride's hometown, she'll be whisked away to the City of Cindielium. Never to be seen by Belgarast again. The thought pained him.

He made it through the open portcullis and oaken gate of the inner wall, crossing the inner courtyard and into the double doors of the keep, which were defended by a now open portcullis.

After dropping his training equipment off at his quarters he made his way to the main hall of the keep. A long and tall rectangular room on the first floor, housing two rows of long tables and benches and a table at the head of the two rows, separate and reserved for the high-nobility with cushioned chairs. Oil lamps were hung on the columns supporting the ceiling, coating the room in a warm orange glow. The finest game was served here on fine metal plates and silver utensils as the knights spoke of all manner of topics and laughed at all manner of jokes, making for a loud meal time. Only those of the title of Knight and above within the Ganador House were permitted to dine in this hall with the Baron and his family, with the exception of squires.

Baron Soreb Ganador, an old man with balding head yet a stalwart stare, sat in the middle of his family and esteemed guest, Prince Willum, at the head table. The Prince was busy making chit chat with the knights sitting closest to his table. Charlotte sat next to him with long flowing brown hair and rosy cheeks, trying to join in on the Prince's conversations however he paid her little attention, Belgarast noticed as he sat down on one of the farther seats. His meal was laid before him by the castle's hand-servants. Venison with a side of steamed vegetables and freshly baked bread. Wine was poured for everyone from a silver pitcher by a serving girl.

Belgarast ate, hardly speaking to his peers. He was newly knighted last summer, and had yet to make any of these acquaintances into friends. He instead spent the meal keeping an eye on Charlotte. She may have been across the room from him a distance away, but he could tell the rift between the betrothed was greater than that. Poor girl.

A squire with fair brown hair and freckles sat across Belgarast. The squire's knight had been laughing and talking loudly with his friends beside him; distracted from his squire. The squire looked across at Belgarast and got his attention, asking him

"Why is everyone so enamoured with the Prince? I know he's royalty and all, but all that attention for one man?" The squire motioned with his knife to the group of knights and squires closest to Willum, entranced by a tale which couldn't be heard over the clamour from this far away.

Belgarast nodded to the boy. "Well, It's more than him being a prince."

"The wedding you mean? I hear it's great for the Baron to be able to marry off his daughter into King Cindiel's family,  but why the worship?"

"It has to do with his deeds" Belgarast said, while looking towards Willum. "This was before your time, but when he was younger, he was already betrothed to another."

"Another woman?" the boy gasped. "What happened to her?"

"I'll tell you once you stop interrupting" Belgarast said with a cheerful grin. He loved children and talking to them.

The boy blushed. "Sorry."

"Anyways, before the wedding commenced, his wife-to-be was strolling through the vineyards beyond her hometown's walls, when bandits jumped from the bushes, slaying her entourage and taking her away and later demanding ransom. Willum, who was able to pay this ransom, instead took off on his horse after them, a cloud of rage and anguish permeating from him. He found their encampment, slew as many as he could but when they caught wind of him, they slew her and the rest escaped his wrath." The boy was completely transfixed on the tale. Belgarast continued; "he was never the same after that, they say. After he returned with the terrible news, he was still regarded a hero for the effort he made, and that's the reason he's so worshipped now as the '45 man slayer'; the number of brigands he felled that day. However, he never recovered from the loss, closing his inner self off completely is what the rumours say, but I shouldn't delve into that mere days before his wedding; it's rude,"

"I don't mind, truly I don't," the boy said quickly. "I don't think it's disrespectful. I want to hear it."

"Alright, alright," Belgarast said with a chuckle. "The romantics say that his heart died that day with his love, and no other woman would ever revive it. Along with his loss, they say our Lord, Varkil, cursed him with a heart of stone for his failure. But these are just tales spun by bored housewives."

The boy looked over at the Prince, who was chewing while talking and chortling. "You wouldn't think it..."

"That's why you take these sorts of things with a grain of salt, as often they are exaggerated," Belgarast said between mouthfuls of venison.

The boy nodded thoughtfully, and continued eating.

A rapid dinging sounded, and all eyes turned to the now standing Baron Soreb. He ceased tapping his goblet with his fork.

"Denizens of my fair keep and those of my lands," he began in his sturdy regal voice, "I interrupt your feasting with fantastic news! After some deliberation with our Prince and groom, we have decided that there is simply no point to this delay on the wedding ceremony, and rather than wait," he looked over to Willum and Charlotte, pausing, "the groom said he wanted to marry her now. Seeing no reason to refuse," he looked over his hall with pride, "I agreed to move it to tomorrow afternoon!" He declared with a wide smile and celebratory slam of emphasis on the table and the whole room erupted in uproarious glee for the happy couple.

The squire clapped, and both Belgarast and Willum took long sips of their wine as the room cheered and loudly affirmed their congratulations. Charlotte blushed and smiled in glee and embarrassment while accepting her subjects' compliments. Supper continued with joy, however Belgarast couldn't seem to eat.

After the meal, Belgarast was able to retire to his quarters as his duties were scheduled for the nighttime, not the afternoon.

Once in privacy he wept. He sat on his feathered mattress in his rather small yet comfortable quarters.

Oh, he could remember first seeing Charlotte, when he was first a squire and she was close to his age, only a couple springs his senior. Her being escorted by guards through the castle grounds on a beautifully sunny day. He remembered her 18th birthday, how she danced with many noble sons in the most beautiful of styles and dressed in the most gleaming of fashions. How her hair was in lovely Cindielium style braids. He remembered all of his dreams of her, sneaking into his chambers late at night, or vice versa.

Oh how he wept into his warmly moist hands quietly. Suffering his feelings alone. He thought he had time to come to terms, but they thrust it on him. Nay, they thrust him into it; the shivering pond without first letting him dip and wade into it to get used to it's stabbing cold.

He lay on his bed under the warm yet scarce light of his desk candle and ceiling lamp, and entered a fitful sleep before his night-watch began.