We kept a decent pace over the course of the afternoon until reaching the castle. As we went over the rolling hills, and beneath the tallest trees I’d ever seen, I rode alongside Edryd who lay in the back of one of the carts on top of a few sheets of now blood-soaked linen.

I honestly should have thought about the possibility of that happening, he thought. I now know the reason why they always warn us never to use an untested spell in battle. You're a fool, Thoma Fayren. Just like your father, I thought, mentally kicking myself.

Bernar pulled up next to me, eyeing us both carefully before speaking. “He'll be alright,” he began to say after seeing the worried look on my face. “He's a strong boy. Well, stronger than you anyways, but then again that's not hard to be now, is it?” he said, in an attempt to cheer me up in his usual way. I slightly raised my eyebrows and grinned from the corner of my mouth. “You're an asshole,” I said with the same expression. “Like I said, I wouldn't worry about him. He'll heal in about two days,” Bernar said comfortingly. “It was my fault,” I said curtly, my line of sight moving from my brother to Celer's nape as my eyes began to water.

“I know I should’ve tested the spell before today, and now my friend has paid the price for my stupidity,” I managed with an ever-growing lump in my throat. “You managed to save him from being outnumbered and killed. Nothing more, nothing less,” Bernar said as if stating the obvious. “I'd be focusing more on that fact, if I were in your shoes,” he shrugged.

I looked back at my brother with bloodshot eyes, feeling the salty fluid greatly caressing the green of my irises.

“Thanks,” I said with no small amount of difficulty. “Bah, no need to thank me. Just remember to always try to focus on the positive side of things,” Bernar said. “Otherwise, you'll get lost whilst wallowing in your own self-pity, and nobody likes a whiner now, do they?” he said, expecting an answer. “No, they don’t,” I said, sniffling back a small string of snot and wiping the remainder on my sleeve.

“Good. Glad we got that cleared up,” Bernar said, patting me on the shoulder. “Now, do your best to clear your eyes and get that slime out of your nostrils. We're almost at the castle,” he finished and rode ahead to be at the Master's side once more.

I did what I could, but I knew the skin around my eyes would likely still be a bit red. We rode over the last hill, and at its peak, we saw it in the distance with its mountainous backdrop.

Coltend Castle.

I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Granted, they were still full of tears, making my vision a little blurry as a result, but from what I could see, it was massive. I forced myself to blink a few times in hopes of clearing up my eyesight.

Until this point in time, I’d never seen anything that large that wasn't a mountain. The walls were forty meters high, and made of solid granite slabs. On top of the walls stood guard-posts made from the trees of the nearby forest, and were placed at regular intervals along the circumference of the wall.

The Western Gate stood tall and mighty at twenty meters tall, and made of steel and cedar. It was a formidable obstacle for any attempts of invasion or against almost any form of enemy, though I never really thought any army would’ve been dumb enough to try.

The palace, where the royal family resided, stood in the exact center of the circular wall. The towering structure rose far above the wall as it gleamed in the late afternoon sun, reflecting the last rays out towards the countryside.

It’s like a lighthouse. Although, instead of water, there is a vast expanse of land, I thought.

“We're almost there,” the Master called out. “Now pick your jaws up off the ground, and let's get a move on,” he shouted back. Everyone put their heels to their horse’s sides, and trotted down the hillside.

Irun and Batch rode up next to me, whose eyes were only now clear enough that I could lift his head up and look around without being embarrassed, and trotted alongside me. “Have you ever seen anything like that? 'Cause I sure as shit haven't,” Batch began. “I have once or twice before being inducted into the synners,” Irun replied.

“My father was a trader. He and I would often travel together to deliver our village's goods as a form of taxes to the king. My mother was a synner, and after a few trips with my father, she decided that being a trader wasn't a life I should want or have. She was a very strong-willed woman, and so I was induced into the synners. If I had to go back and choose between a trader's life and a synner's, I'd choose the synners any day,” he finished.

Batch glanced over at him with a look of surprise. “Your mother was a synner? I’d always thought your father was,” he said with no small amount of surprise in his voice. “Aye, she was,” Irun said, his tone falling with the last word. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know she’d…” Batch said. “It's alright,” Irun interrupted. “The only other person who knew about that was the Master. So, you don't have to say sorry. You had no way of knowing, after all,” Irun replied brushing off the emotional wave that tugged at his vocal chords.

I looked over at Irun and then towards the ground as though I had felt some sort of mirrored connection with his own story. “I can understand what you must feel whenever you talk about it,” I muttered, not sure he could hear me, and even less if I’d wanted him to. “I’m sure you do,” Irun replied with an empathetic nod. I returned a chagrined smile, but decided it was probably better to face forward and not focus on mine and Bernar’s past. “Well, at least now we don’t only get to hear tales of the Castle. We’re going to be able to live the details of those stories as soon as we enter those walls,” I said, trying my best to change the subject.

As lame as it sounded, it worked.

Batch and Irun looked at each other and then back at me who held an obvious and almost boastful grin on my face. “Be honest, I, do you really think the Master, Master Garett and your brother will simply allow us to meander about, spending our small quantities of pocket money on taverns and women?” Batch asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

It was a fairly rhetorical question, however, Irun simply shrugged in lieu of an immediate response.

“I think after what we pulled off this morning, we should be allowed a little time off the leash they keep us on,” he said after a few moment’s pause and with no small amount of sarcasm in his voice. “I agree. While I’ve never had a woman, nor ale to go along with one for that matter, I think it’s about time boys of our ages actually learn about that, no?” I asked, my mind running rampant with what that might actually be like, and whether I’d be able to do anything about it in the castle.

I, of course, was wrong.

“Best not get too far ahead of yourself, young one,” Master Garett said, forcing a ghostly expression on our collective faces. Master Garett had overheard the entire conversation and now knew what our late-night activities would be, should they be able to leave their rooms. He looked at the three, and pushed his bottom lip out a little.

“I’m merely disappointed, though not surprised. I suppose that’s what I’d do, were I in your boots,” he said with a face of someone who’d just thought of a good memory. “Just pray your asses are actually going to be allowed out at night,” he said, turning his head back towards the castle. We looked at each other, probably all wondering whether going out at night was even a possibility.

I can’t put my finger on it, but I can feel there’s more to him saying that than we think, I thought as I looked over at the trio of riders ahead of me.

I wonder just how much they really know about the happenings of the world, and what our roles were within them, I thought, sighing heavily in the process.

We were approaching the castle’s walls. It became evident just how massive the flags in the castle were. From where we were, I gathered it was almost a kilometer at that point, I could finally begin to see the details on the flags that flew above the massive gate.

The square flag of Coltend Castle had sewn on it the image of a griffin devouring a sun, while crushing the moon with its talons above an unfurled scroll with indecipherable words on it. To be honest, I had no idea what they meant, if anything at all, as they were still far too blurry for me to read them. As the sun was just about to set on the distant horizon behind the hills they had ridden over earlier in the day, the entirety of the castle’s face was illuminated by the golden rays.

“The size of these walls is starting to make my neck hurt from looking up at them,” Irun said, rubbing his nape. Batch and I agreed with his statement, catching ourselves also rubbing their napes. About fifty meters from the gate, the guardsmen’s faces were becoming increasingly detailed, but then again, so were ours. “Keep your mouths shut unless you want flies getting in,” Bernar said, trying to be as level headed as possible. Batch and Irun chuckled, but understood what he meant. When we were about fifty meters from the gate, a voice called out from behind the large cedar and steel bar gate.

On the gate itself, there was a smaller doorway that appeared to be heavily reinforced so that it wasn’t the weakest point of the gate. On the doorway, there was a small steel hatch, just big enough to fit a man’s face. When we got close enough, the hatch opened quickly with a sharp crack. “Hallo, there!” the voice called out. It was a man’s voice, and only judging by the sound, I knew the man to be a fairly large one.

I thought guardsmen were meant to ask the age-old question of who we are, but it’s odd how he didn’t ask what our names were. Not to mention he’s got the oddest way of saying Hello I think I’ve ever heard,  I thought.

“Hello, there! I am the Master Synner of Codrean, and as you can see, I have a small party with me. “Ja, I can see them, Master,” the man on the other side replied. “Then I presume you know why we’re here,” The Master said. “Ja, I know why, and I already knew who you were even before I opened the hatch, Master,” the man said. “I’d seen you from the top of the wall, and recognized your armor shortly after. Took me a while to pinpoint where it was from, but I got it right. You simply confirmed it,” he said cheerfully, closing the hatch.

I could hear orders being barked from behind the gate as its chains became taut, lifting the massive gate. They chains creaked and strained to lift the mighty gate, wrapping around a large drum winch tightly. Batch, Irun, and I tried peering under the gate to see who could get the first glimpse, but Bernar whistled softly to get our attention. He subtly shook his head in order to prevent us from doing so. With no small amount of dejection, we settled back into our saddles.

Once the gate was fully raised, the man stepped out from behind the nearby pillar of the guardhouse. He was a very large man indeed, as I had guessed from the sound of his voice.

Well I’ll be damned. He must be one of the descendants of the giant tribes in the North,  I thought.

The man stood at least a head taller than anyone present, had long fair hair, deep blue eyes, and a thick well-kept beard that grew all the way down to his medallion. His armor was plate metal, not leather like the synners’ uniforms, since his was made for being able to withstand blows that could crush a man without it. It was polished bright, and his red cape split in two lengths just above knee height. His left pauldron had the Griffin of Coltend’s insignia.

That must mean he’s left-hand dominant. It’s difficult to fight against that, since their guards are all mirrored, he thought, as I noticed his greatsword hung from the right side of his hip.

The Master rode up to him and nodded, gauging his size. “Gods above,” the Master said. “It’s easy to forget how large members of your race are, though, in all my years, you’re the first I’ve met who is this tall,” he said astonishedly. The man stood almost as tall as the Master on top of his horse and stared at him cheerfully, his flat face showing a large smile. “What is your name, guardsman?” the Master asked. “Sir Magnar Thorsen, Master,” the giant replied, handing him an apple.

Thorsen? Sounds like someone descended from the gods themselves, I thought, taking note of the name.