Midway through the same week that had seen Alistar beaten and bloodied, the male house servants set up an old bookcase of polished, stained oak along the wall near his bed. This was courtesy of his uncle Caedmon, a gesture that he appreciated greatly. He made it a point to pack each of the four shelves with various books from the library, which he had handpicked to suit his interests. Many of them made mention of Alta, but never more than a paragraph of broad commentary. This lack of information eventually intrigued him to the point of frustration, so he decided to see if his old Drunish friend knew anything on the subject.

Apparently, Alta had been a large empire in the past, and was now a moderately-sized kingdom. The reason that so little information was available on it was that the kingdom was regarded as a dangerous, backwater place that was on bad terms with the other powers of the continent. That was the extent of Mr. Herst’s knowledge on the subject. Since information on the area was so sparse, Alistar began to compile his own list of data by copying tidbits from other sources onto a single document, which he updated whenever he found the time.

Once, Anice had stolen the roll of parchment from his drawer, but he’d easily wrestled it away from her before she could read much of its contents. As an apology for being rough, he’d skipped his sword practice and gone off to play with her by the gardens. They played tag for hours, and surprisingly, she hadn't cheated. It had been fun, and had made him wish that he got along better with the other children. He’d only ever played with one person at a time, and wondered what it would be like to play with a whole group of others.

As time passed and the days bled into July, Alistar grew more aware of the distance between him and others his age. Not just those that attended lessons at the Hanging Hill, but even with the other kids in the lecture hall that was located in the basement of the cathedral.

During his baptism—a quiet, candlelit ceremony with only his family and a humble old priest in attendance—he’d carefully echoed all he was meant to repeat, recited a few prayers that he had been told to memorize, and accepted his silver oval of worship without any trouble. Every Sunday following the ceremony, he and his family would make their way down North Street when the grass was still wet with dew, alongside dozens of other townsfolk that were all headed to the same destination. Eventually, they would make the lengthy climb up the steps of the grand staircase and into the towering splendor of the massive cathedral. After every mass, Caedmon personally led Alistar and Anice to one of the many basement rooms where they joined the other children of noble birth for lessons on religion.

Nobody seemed to like his cousin, and by affiliation, nobody seemed fond of him either. They always sat at the back of the group, usually accompanied by Lessa, Anice’s only friend that ever attended. Alistar was too shy to talk to her, so he fervently paid attention to the lessons that the two girls ignored.

Just as he did at the Hanging Hill, he had asked many questions during the earlier classes, but this drew animosity from the other children so he quickly stopped. He hadn’t been critical in the least, only curious. Yet still, their attitudes had been clear. How could someone question the holy words of scripture?

These days, he kept his mouth shut and listened with astute attention to detail. The contents of the lessons were taken directly from the Holy Book, which Alistar had read some time ago. To him these lessons were a waste of his precious time, but he suffered through the simple teachings in order to appease his uncle, and also with the hopes of making at least one friend. He tried his best to be kind to the other children, but this became increasingly difficult since his friendly greetings were generally ignored.

Since he’d met them, Alistar had been ghosting along with the Dozen at least twice a week. They didn’t take much notice of him, but he did pick up on some new phrases and a few curse words after hanging around them for so long. As things were, his efforts at forging new friendships were at a standstill. This changed a week before his tenth birthday.

Alistar had just finished up with his morning lessons at the collegia, and was on his way to the Hanging Hill. Today had been particularly brutal. After half an hour of meditation, he had sparred with his master for over four hours, pausing here and there for rest or instruction. His confidence had been growing in recent weeks, but today’s struggles had opened his eyes to a sobering reality. He might be strong when compared to others his age, but in comparison to the average adult, he was hopelessly weak. Tramon hadn’t broken a sweat, and Alistar hadn’t landed a single hit. Rather, he had gained dozens of welts and bruises, and his clothes were completely drenched with sweat.

His steps were absentminded as he reflected upon the day’s failures. Lost in his own world, he looked up just in time to avoid walking into somebody that had suddenly jumped in front of him.

“Z—Zech?” he stammered.

Of all of Anice’s friends, Zech had left quite a good impression. The upbeat boy had an amiable way about him that made him easier to talk to than the others. Jaden was too brash, Woods too talkative, Corrie too withdrawn—and that was coming from Alistar—and the girls too intimidating. Because of this, it was usually Zech who found himself answering Alistar’s questions.

Wearing the modest browns and whites of a typical commoner, Zech stepped forward with noticeable hesitation.

“Hey, Alistar. You have a minute?”

Though he was eager to visit Mr. Herst, it was only around midday, so there was no need to rush. “I supposed so. What’s on your mind?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Zech glanced around sheepishly. “You mind if we go somewhere else?”

Alistar had planned on getting a snack at the market before running to the Hanging Hill, so he was a bit reluctant to go off to some random place. However, Zech had helped him out when those other boys had attacked him. Not only that, this was the first time that he had been sought out by someone his age apart from Anice.

“Okay. Lead the way.”

A short while later, the two of them were sitting on the riverbank of the Greyline, their bare feet in the cool water. Zech didn’t want to risk being overheard, so they had walked a few hundred paces downriver from the small glade that served as the Dozen’s secret hideout.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Determination burned in Zech’s eyes. “Anne says that you’re taking sword lessons under Tramon Lawson. Is that why you were at the collegia just now?”

“Yes, I train with him every morning. Well, not on Sundays. Why?”

Zech shifted nervously, plucking at the rough fabric of his trousers. “Do you think you could share your lessons with me?”

“Share? What do you mean?”

“You know—show me what he teaches you. I know it’ll be a pain, and I don’t have much to give you as payment, but I promise you that I will never forget this favour. I’ll pay you back one day, I swear it!”

Alistar placed his hand over the area where his mother’s locket sat tucked away beneath his tunic. Perhaps they could become friends if he agreed?

“Think of it as an investment!”

“An investment?”

“I’ve always dreamt of growing up to be a strong swordsman.” Zech spoke earnestly, his blue eyes shining. “The others tease me over it more than I’d like. Especially Jaden, that ass.”

“What’s funny about being a swordsman?”

“That’s what I say!” He put on an embarrassed smile, as if he were speaking about something shameful. “I actually wanna become a frontiersman. If I can become strong and go on a lot of adventures, then I’ll be able to build up a good reputation. Then it won’t matter that I’m just a brewmaster’s boy.” He sagged a little. “My family isn’t well off, and my father refuses to pay for the lessons. Says I should forget my childish fantasies and take up work at the tavern like my brothers.” He rested his hands on Alistar’s shoulders and spoke desperately. “I know how ridiculous it sounds, but please, won’t you consider it? You’re my only hope!”

Alistar wasn’t aware of how much money Tramon charged his uncle, but there was no way that the grumpy man’s teachings were cheap. He had been the private tutor to the princes of Civus, after all, and still remained the most renowned swordsman in the kingdom. That didn’t matter to Alistar, however. The only thing that worried him was that he lacked the confidence to pass on Tramon’s instructions, as he was still a student himself. On the other hand, once Zech caught up to him then he would have somebody to spar with that wouldn’t simply subject him to one-sided beatings. If today’s lesson had taught him anything, it was that the thing that he lacked most as a swordsman was hands-on experience.

If I stop training at night, then it should be possible.

“Please! This is the only chance I’ll ever have!”

Seeing the other boy’s sincerity, Alistar smiled. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

Zech’s face lit up like the sunrise. “You mean it? You’ll really do it?”

“I don’t mind.” Alistar rubbed at one of his bruises. “But it won’t be easy. Tramon’s lessons are…exhausting.” It was more like bullying than training.

Zech flew to his feet with a splash. “My pa always says that nothing comes easy in life.”

His father sounded like a smart man.

“I’ll help you, but only on one condition.”

Zech nodded. “I’ve been pocketing tips at the tavern for nearly a year. I only have about a silver lucet’s worth of coppers, but I promise I’ll—”

Alistar waved his hands. “I’m not talking about money.” He turned his gaze to the tranquil waters of the Greyline. “I’ll teach you what I learn during my lessons, but you have to teach me how to swim.”

Zech couldn’t hide his disbelief. “That’s all? You just want me to teach you how to swim?”

“You can swim, can’t you?”

“O-Of course. I’m the best swimmer in the group. But are you really okay with just that? Even I know that Tramon’s lessons must cost a fortune.”

“It’s an equal trade to me.” Alistar didn’t get up, as he enjoyed the feeling of the water on his feet. “I’m embarrassed that I can’t swim,” he admitted. “All my life, I grew up hearing stories about seas and lakes and flowing rivers, and I always dreamt of the day that I would get a chance to swim. Before I saw the outside world, I hadn't even seen enough water to fill a barrel."

“You lived in the mines,” Zech recalled, sympathy in his voice. “So you’ve never swam before?”

“I’ve been into a river once, but I spent most of that time playing with my uncle. In the end, he didn’t get around to teaching me.”

An uncomfortable frown slipped onto Zech’s face. “It just doesn’t seem fair. Swimming doesn’t take much time to learn, but learning swordsmanship will take years. Please,” he offered a small sack of coins, “at least let me pay you what I can.”

It was then that Alistar finally stood, pushing Zech’s hand away and shaking his head. “If it really bothers you so much, then there’s one more thing you can do for me.”

Zech agreed without hesitation. “I’ll do anything. But…what is it that I can do that’s worth the sword lessons of Tramon Lawson?”

Alistar shifted, suddenly uneasy. Forcing it down, he looked up and put on a modest grin. “If you’ll be my friend, I’ll be fine with just that.”