i guess we'll just have to adjust. Who: Bram Thornton & Zacheus Aleyne. What: Lunch and a squire assignment. Where: The Kranky Knight. When: Today. Rating: Tame. Status: Complete.
Between their busy schedules, Bram and Zacheus didn’t have too many opportunities to see each other these days. Bram had both the EKP and his councilor duties, and Zacheus was often out of the city for days—occasionally weeks—at a time. His mentor had contacted him a week ago about a matter he wanted to discuss, but Ranger business had taken the archer away from Emillion for practically a fortnight. He’d made meeting with Bram a priority upon his return, and they’d agreed to meet at the Kranky Knight for lunch.
The requisite small talk was exchanged, orders were rattled off to a perky waitress (beef stew for Zacheus, meat loaf for Bram, ale for them both), and the two had settled comfortably into their booth when the woman returned with their drinks.
“So,” Zacheus began, always in favor of cutting straight to the point, “there was something you wanted to run past me?”
“Aye.” Bram assumed – hoped – that this discussion would go easier than matchmaking Monaco had been. He’d kept an eye on both his former squire and the young Deirgard for months, and this idea had finally coalesced over time, two threads finally knitting and interweaving after giving Conan a stern scolding.
“Have you given much thought to squiring? I know you rejected the last offer, but it’s been a while since then.”
“Squiring?” Zacheus echoed, genuine surprise flickering across his face. There was a slight pause as he scratched at his chin, his expression thoughtful. “No, I can’t say that I have. The Rangers keep me busy, and there’s—family to look after.” Looking after a squire fell on the very long list of things Zacheus was far too busy to do.
It also fell on the list of things he didn’t think he’d be any good at.
He gave the dragoon a wary look. “Why?”
Bram could have meandered around the subject and approached it aslant (I know a certain teenager in need of guidance), but that had never been his way, or theirs. “Conan needs one. Don’t know if you’ve heard that he already lost Antony. Think you’d do well with him, as much as anyone can.”
Their food arrived, granting Zacheus a brief respite while the waitress rearranged their pints, making room for the bowl and plate between them.
Zacheus closed his eyes for a moment, a weary groan escaping from the back of his throat. Conan. Of course. It felt like the beginning of a headache was brewing at his temples—one that was bound to be permanent if he accepted Conan as a squire. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m fond of Conan. I think he has a lot of potential. But I don’t know if I’m the right person to bring out that potential—archery lessons are one thing, but having a squire…”
The archer trailed off, his gaze lowering to his bowl of stew. He picked at it with his spoon.
He didn’t want to say no, not if it meant Conan would get shuffled off to another impatient knight willing to write him off after the first prank. And yet.
“He’s gone through a record number of mentors. Do you honestly think I’ll be able to reign him in?”
“A record number of mentors that he didn’t know from before.” Bram wasn’t certain if this was the trick—the missing key to this whole mess, the crucial difference—but at least it could be a start. Something different, a variation on the formula in the hopes that this would finally work out for once. “They were strangers, people he could anger and throw aside. Make them throw him aside. But if it’s someone he already has a connection to…”
The dragoon shrugged, spearing into his roasted potatoes with a fork. “It’s a thought. And regardless, he’s proven himself surprisingly good with ranged equipment, so I’ve been looking at archers. You’re busy with Ranger work, aye, but so is Uppsala – who’s much less patient – and Karth’s too young for my preference. Goodwin’s busy with her shop and her company. Honestly think you’re the best fit for the job, Zacheus.”
It was an astounding amount of speech, coming from Thornton.
“Alright. If you honestly think it’s a good idea,” Zacheus said slowly, voice still tinged with uncertainty. He didn’t share Bram’s views on the subject, but he didn’t think any good would come out of protesting the assignment. He reached for his drink, desperate to quell the sudden blend of anxiety and worry that had taken up residence in his stomach.
“I’d like to think I was a well-behaved squire, sir. I’m not sure I deserve this.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile; it was his half-hearted attempt to inject some levity into the situation.
“It had to be someone.” Bram gave his own brand of stilted levity, even as he went for the comforting weight of a pint-glass in his hand. “Might as well be someone I know who can handle it.”
The shortlist hadn’t been very long at all: initially Aleyne had seemed the lesser of many evils, but the more that Bram considered the options within the Fighters Guild, the more hopeful this pair-up seemed. More optimistic than throwing Conan to the wolves, at least (or was it throwing the mentors to the wolf?).
“This isn’t a punishment for you,” Bram said, now humourless once more. “I want the best for him—” Bram had failed one too many teenagers already, “and I trust you.”
The man had not been his mentor in any official capacity for over a decade and a half now, but Zacheus still felt a little burst of pride when Bram leveled any praise his way. His own tone was equally somber when he replied with, “Well, I only hope I can be half as good as you were.”
Some small warmth crept up in Bram’s chest (half-tempered with a twinge of pain), but he smiled over the edge of his glass. He nodded at the ranger across from him—who’d grown from a quiet and glowering and unhappy youth into a man still quiet, less unhappy, as responsible and level-headed as Bram might’ve ever hoped.
“Nonsense,” Bram said brusquely, looking back down at the plate in front of him.
Well, then. They were about to embark on a new experiment; only time would tell if the wager would work.