Hynes Family/Alois/The Boy/Roleplay1

“The Islands were depressing,” Alois explained to the young man as they marched at the head of the column. “I had to bust my back working like a peasant, further tarnishing my good name and reputation, for the most basic needs. You worked like a dog, day and night, unloading trade galleys for a bowl of mush and a bed of straw. And for what? To lead good men to die for a realm full of bickering morons, and lead by a government of scheming Rebels?” The young boy listened intently to Alois’ every word, savoring the tales of the Knight’s experiences. He’d found the boy in Enubec, a beggar orphaned during a raid, and had felt a deep pity and an odd shame. He was obviously starving, his face gaunt and hollow and his skin deathly white. No family to speak of, no one to teach him a craft, and therefore no place in the village. Alois’ horse, Traveller, had not shied away when the boy approached like he would with most men, so the boy must have had a good heart, because Traveller could smell sin. “Ever seen a Dwarf lead an army?” Alois asked suddenly. “It’s quite a sight. All three feet of him sitting ahorse and directing the army. I laughed so hard I could barely fight.” “What’s a Dwarf, sir?” the boy asked. “A little person,” Alois said, holding his hands apart to illustrate the size of the little man, “You know, a dwarf. Called himself a halfling, or something, but I always heard ‘em called Dwarf.” The young boy giggled hysterically, and Alois had to smile himself. “Like I said, a sight.” He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and threw a glance back at the other men marching with him. “You’ll find, son, that in this world there are very few causes worth fighting for.” “Why did you leave?” Alois gave a deep sigh. “I got tired of the games they played, and of the constant bickering. Every event that took place, every vote, was a carefully manipulated series of events. Nothing happened up there that Lalakis himself didn’t plan. Heh, he even planned the rebellion against his own rule!” Alois shook his head and added, “Crafty snake. My point is, Boy, that you must be careful of who you swear your sword to in this world, lest you want it tainted. Let that be your first lesson as my Squire.” “Yes, Ser,” the boy said meekly. They stopped at noon to water the horses while the column marched on. The boy had a natural affinity for the animals, Alois noticed, and they took to him in turn. He’d had Traveller for twelve years, and so far the boy as the only other man besides Alois who could approach him without being kicked, bitten or stomped. “Boy,” he called, “In my bags, I have some apples. I want you to get one for me, you and Traveller.” The boy did as he was told, and only when he’d given Alois the apple did he ask about one for his horse. “That ran down thing doesn’t deserve one,” Alois said in his harshest voice. “You will do as I command and not question it. If I do not order something, you must assume that I do not want it done. Clear?” The boy nodded and moved off, unable to meet Alois’ eyes, his shoulders hunched with the weight of reproach. He pretended not to watch the boy, taking a bite from the apple and slowly chewing as the young man inched his way closer to the little mare, stopping every few feet to throw a glance towards Alois. Carefully, keeping his back to Alois, he allowed the mare to pluck the fruit from his hand. Later, after the horses were well rested and they were preparing to travel on, Alois reached into his saddlebag and pulled out the last of the apples. He handed it to the boy, and smiled. “Kindness is a Knightly virtue,” he said with a soft smile,“and the rarest. You’ll do, lad.” He mounted Traveller and together they rejoined the column.