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Wide Open World Chapter 2: To Prove Oneself For Idesin By Draconicon

Burkhard was, admittedly, new to the idea of being someone's bodyguard. He had the idea down, for certain. One was to lay their body down for the defense of their assigned subject, and would do all that they could to maintain the safety of the one that they were told to protect. Sir Edmund, as well as the Lady Blanc, had drilled those concepts into his skull, and the buck had every intention on delivering with those assignments.

The idea of following the younger squirrel around, however, was starting to wear a little thin. Particularly when the young man didn't speak in more than a few words at a time.

Is this who will run their family when the Marquis passes? he wondered. Some bookworm that refuses to speak without being spoken to?

He immediately chastised himself for the thought, as it was uncharitable and hardly something that he would have said to the young squirrel. Fourteen years of age, Bastien was, and, of those fourteen years, the squirrel had been locked up in a tower for ten of them. It wasn't a fair comparison to hold him up to the others that the buck knew.

At the same time, it was impossible not to do it. Particularly as they had wandered through the library of the keep for over two hours in utter silence, despite Burkhard's attempts at conversation. His hooves tapped away at the cobblestones beneath them impatiently, the sound of footsteps and soft breaths here and there the only thing to take his mind off of his silent subject.

Two hours. Two. Hours. Of silence in the library. He struggled to keep quiet for an hour of silence for the church, let alone this.

"Master Bastien."

Neither of them had spoken for so long - and indeed, neither had anyone else in the library - that the sound of his voice felt like a thunderclap. The squirrel tripped in place, almost falling into the bookshelves. Almost, because Burkhard was already there, putting an arm in front of the squirrel before he could finish falling.

The buck shook his head.

"Master Bastien. May I...suggest...that we go outside for a while?"

"O-outside? That...I mean..."

The young man seemed to collect himself, taking a deep breath in before letting it out slowly.

"I would require permission to go outside."

"...Permission."

"Yes...Is that b-bad?"

"..."

Burkhard had no idea that things had gone this far for the heir to the Lord Blanc's lands. He knew that the boy had been isolated, but to be told that he needed permission to even go outside, even now...The buck felt a wave of sympathy come crashing over him, and he smiled slightly.

"I wouldn't call it bad, Master Bastien. But I believe that, as your bodyguard, I can speak for your parents as to whether we can leave."

"I-I don't know..."

"Leave it to me to know, young Master, and I will take the blame if it comes to pass that I am incorrect."

"...Are you sure? I-I mean, I don't want...I don't want anyone to get in...trouble."

"I am sure as I can be. Let us go, young Master."

And anything to get out of the library, and not have to whisper. Compared to the training field and the volume he was used to, the library felt like it was crushing him with its enforced quiet and stillness.

The young Master led the way out of the library, and down the halls of the keep. In short order, they'd passed through the side halls and the main hall, and were at the gates to the grounds. A few guards, a smattering of horses and other stags, looked down on them as they reached the door. Burkhard slammed his fist to his chest in salute.

"Master Bastien wishes to see the grounds. I will be accompanying him for his safety."

"...You, Buck?"

"I respectfully remind you that it is Burkhard, Sir Valmund."

The older stag chuckled, and he did his best to maintain discipline. It wasn't as hard as it used to be. If there was one thing that Sir Edmund had been able to teach him properly, it was how to keep his composure. Most of the time, it was the only way he could avoid dying of shame from the old stallion.

The other stags elbowed each other a few times, making a few more jokes off of his name being 'buck' rather than Burkhard, going so far as to imply that he was bucking back against more than authority.

However, his calm broke when one of them said:

"Betcha the young master's gonna appreciate that bucking, right?"

Burkhard whipped around at the stag who said that, pulling himself up as high as his hooves would go, and went nose to nose with the bigger, more-antlered stag.

"Are you suggesting that I would do such a thing to the young Master, after being appointed his bodyguard? Do you think I would disgrace my honor and his family's so far?"

"Heh, with a name like -"

"Say one more word about my name and its implications, and I shall challenge you, Carlisle!"

"...Heh, the young buck's got a pair of horns, it seems," Carlisle said, chuckling before nodding. "Alright, alright, you two can go."

Managing to keep his quiet as they left the main hall was one of the greatest challenges of his life. The idea of such a thing, that he would...with Master Bastien, of all people...His cheeks burned as the idea fluttered around the edges of his mind, and he forced it away as he forced himself to go through the litany of knighthood. The values of chastity, of honor, and of greatest valor must be maintained.

The fact that the young Master had remained silent through the exchange concerned him. Had the squirrel been offended? Would there be something that he needed to apologize for? Was there -

"What kind of bucking were they talking about, Burkhard?"

...Oh, dear.

He paused on the dirt path down from the keep, looking down at the squirrel to see if the young Master was joking. It was immediately clear, by the curiosity in his eyes, that he wasn't.

Just...how much have they hidden from him? he wondered. It is one thing to hide him from the world that might want to kill him, but to keep him from knowing the basics of how to carry on his own line...

Well, he wasn't going to be the one to explain that. The buck would do many things. He would serve the young lord to the best of his abilities. He would fight for him. He would lay down his life for him. They were not employing him to teach Master Bastien about the birds and the bees and the eggs and the -

Goodness, I must keep my mind out of the gutter...

With a muttered suggestion to ask the Lord Blanc instead of him, Burkhard gestured towards the rising tents on the grounds before the keep.

"Perhaps we should see the Festival?"

"B-before my father gives it...another name. Yes. Yes. Let's do that."

"As you say, Master Bastien."

There was little ready for the festival just yet. Most of the tents and the stands were half-constructed, at best, and those that were fully prepared were not selling anything of interest to the young Master. Blades and other weapons he could receive in the keep, if such were needed, and the silks, while colorful, didn't seem to interest the young man for long.

"They...they're not as good...as ours," was the only explanation that he received.

So, instead, they wandered through the tents, looking at the strangers that came into the lands. Bastien would pause here and there, talking in strange tones to people that replied in kind, and Burkhard would stand beside him and do his best to look intimidating. The buck wasn't entirely sure how well it worked, considering that he had yet to earn the armor of the land and the weapon to go with it, but the antlers on his head and the fact that he had the livery of a squire should count for something.

It was after their third encounter with a group of strangers - a series of bears from the north, who spoke in lowing grunts and who Bastien answered in kind - that Burkhard had to ask. Clearing his throat from lack of speaking - and certainly not from nerves from the bigger bears - he asked.

"What are you saying to them? I cannot understand anything."

"Can't you? Oh, I-I'm sorry. It's...It's the blessing."

"The Kiss of the Faith?"

Bastien nodded, looking down almost as if ashamed.

"I don't...I don't know when I'm...using it...exactly."

"Everyone simply sounds the same to you?"

"Yes."

"Why do you talk to them so much more freely?"

"W-what do you mean?"

Burkhard gestured at the backs of the departing bears.

"Not once did you stutter or pause while talking, not with them, not with the half-fae, not even with the Great Gray Ones. Why are you more comfortable speaking to them than to one of your own land and tongue?"

"..."

"Are you afraid?"

"...Yes."

"Why? They are more foreign than we are."

"That's it...I...I should know you...but I don't. But I don't...I don't have to know them...so it's...it's easier. It's okay if I...if I make a mistake."

What have they done to you, young Master? What have they done to you?

He didn't pursue it any further, and instead allowed the squirrel to drop the subject of conversation. Instead, they turned towards the path through the tents again, making their way towards a series of tables in the distance. Doubtless, someone had set up a small cookery, and they could get something to eat.

They were halfway there when the trouble began.

Burkhard saw the looks that the young squirrel at his side was getting. Curiosity, at first, then something more intense. They recognized the look of nobility, and more, they knew the stories of the young lord's blessing. The Kiss of the Faith was something that few understood, and he knew that they would want first hand...experience. Including some ladies that looked like they were considering a 'kiss' elsewhere.

Not on my watch.

He gently pulled Bastien by the arm, making the squirrel walk a little faster. They managed to evade a few of them before a pair of enthusiastic rodents blocked their path. A pair of rabbits, each swarming forward. Burkhard saw that they wore the crests of minor lords from nearby, and knew they were either retainers or - at worst - cousins connected to a landed bloodline.

He allowed them a chance to speak. But when they laid hands on the young Master's arm -

It was over quickly. One rabbit clutched his arm to his chest, while the other still hadn't gotten off of the ground as they walked around the pair. Bastien looked up at him, cocking his head to the side.

"Why did you do that?"

"They aren't allowed to touch your person. And if we had lingered...it would have caused a difficulty for the festival, young Master."

"If you s-say so, Burkhard."

A problem for the festival until we extricated you, young Master, he thought. This bodyguard business was a little more difficult than he'd expected.

They reached the tables, and he deliberately guided them away from the horse at the far end of the makeshift eatery. Sir Edmund, his knight master, was already on his fourth mug of mead, from the look of it, and he doubted that the horse would be an engaging conversationalist. Particularly with how he was flailing around with his sword, shouting stories and nearly taking off ears at the least, and limbs at the worst when people came to close.

As he called for an ale for himself and punch for the young Master, Burkhard's eyes shifted down the green to the wagons at the far end of it. The Wandering Folk, it seemed, were setting up their own tents, and their own goods. Like as not to be filled with stolen goods, all things considered; they were not a trustworthy folk.

"I believe we should return to the keep after our meal, young Master."

"But...but there's still the, um, the wagons..."

"They are not worth the time."

"But why -"

"THIEF!"

The cry rang out over the grounds, and before Burkhard knew what had happened, a boot landed on his head and shoved him down into his mug of ale. He slowly pulled back, turning to see the robes of one of the Wandering Folk fluttering in the wind, and something tucked under their arm. He reached up, slowly popped the mug off of his muzzle, and stood up.

"Young Master, would you go -"

"Hey! Boy! Bucky!"

And that...was his knight master, calling him. Burkhard closed his eyes with a deep sigh, and wiped the last of the foam off of his face, other guards rushing after the thief.

"I suppose you'll meet my knight master now. Please don't judge me because of him."

The End