It had been weeks since Lance had seen Terry Lingal beat the tar out of Robert Lawless in his home town of Hilochita, and if it had done one thing it was solidify his decision to become a squire. He was all of fifteen and, as his father said, “full of piss and vinegar”. He had a lot he wanted to prove about himself and being a squire was the one way he knew he could do it. He’d been discussing the idea for months. When Lawless came to town, that had seemed to win the argument for his father. Knights were too violent and too dangerous. His father would not allow it. But Lance hadn’t really given up. Quietly, he’d been talking to the other local kids and a few of the younger adults during the occupation. He’d been trying to mount SOME kind of resistance but no one else was willing. They kept arguing that getting the Church turned against the entire town was a terrible idea. And what if he just called more knights? So Lance had stewed in his own juices for weeks.

  Then, he’d been caught out in the rain after another failed meeting about an uprising with the other kids in town. The only other person who seemed even remotely interested was the cute girl in the other tenth grade class, Aurora. But she was still scared. He couldn't blame her. She wasn't a fighter. She was a STEM kid. Then, trying to sneak passed Lawless’s bar, he’d heard the splintering of wood and shattering of glass and turned to see Lawless fly into that wall. A figure had followed him out. A tall, young man with righteous fury in his eyes and completely unarmed. Lance had run as fast as he could and started banging on doors and texting and calling everyone in his phone. He'd run back to watch it all go down.

  They’d seen it. All of them had seen it. Terry had not just beaten Lawless, he’d broken the man’s spirit. Lance had heard the speech Terry’d given the crooked old man and that had decided him. Parents be damned. There were good knights in the world. There was something better to aspire to. He was going to be one of them. He’d argued and bargained, and finally his parents had relented. They’d bought him a set of armor out of Hattiesburg, a squire’s blue tabbard with its yellow cross, and asked him what his plans were. That was where the whole plan nearly fell apart. He hadn’t gotten that far. He hadn’t thought he’d win. But then his mom reminded them that the guy that ran the scrapyard at the old train yard had been a knight. Maybe he would teach Lance, and that was where he was headed.

  He didn’t pretend for a moment that his parents thought it would work out. His mom had most definitely expected him to head out there, beg to be trained, the old man to run him off, and he’d come back and they could get a refund on this armor before it got dented. Well, he wasn’t going to be put off so easily.

  It was a forty minute walk to the Hilochita Railroad and Scrapyard, Lonnie Mercer Proprietor. Lance had a lot of time to think, dodge puddles, and stay out of the road, and so far the only thing he’d convince himself was that he didn’t want to make the same walk back to town without having tried his best. He left the main highway and marched up the dirt and gravel path leading to the entrance with the old sign high over the gate.

  The roll gate was open and there were disused train cars and automobiles everywhere. He walked straight in and started looking around. Ahead was a old commercial building with an old TV antenna on top and a Dish Network dish next to it. Sitting out front was an older black man sitting in a lawn chair with a beer watching him walk up. The man was built like a football player and his hair and beard were gray. He wore a tank-top and khakis.

  Lance saw the man squint at him and the man's, Lonnie's, eyes grew wide when he recognized his outfit. He jumped up from the chair, threw the beer to the ground and started pointing at him and yelling.

  “NO! NO! NOPENOPENOPENOPE! NOT HAPPENING!”

  The man strode to the door, went inside, slammed the door shut and, as Lance got closer, he heard multiple locks clicking and sliding. Lance looked behind him to make sure this was about him. No one else was around. He just walked up to the door and knocked politely.

  “Sir?” he called, “Mr. Lonnie? Can we talk? My name’s Lance.”

  “GO. AWAY.” Came the muffled reply behind the door.

  “Sir, I don’t know if you heard about what happened in town a few weeks ago?”

  “I did!” he yelled back. “I know all about Robert Lawless. I don’t do that any more.”

  Lance was a bit surprised. He assumed the man hadn’t heard and that’s why he’d stayed out here. But he knew? What did that mean?

  “Well,” Lance continued, “he’s gone now. An Errant Apprentice came through and drove him off. I’d like to learn to be like that guy.”

  Lance heard several of the locks unfasten and the door cracked. There were at least four chains still holding the door and the man’s eye was all he could see.

  “You’re fulla crap.” He said. “Ain’t no way an Errant took down Lawless.”

  Lance smiled at him hoping it would put him at ease. It didn’t.

  “He did, sir. Guy named Terry Lingal.”

  There was a very long moment where the eye Lance could see looked terrified. The man finally spoke.

  “Did,” he swallowed, “did he say he was looking for anyone?”

  “No, sir.” Lance said, suddenly worried about if this was a good idea. “He said he just wanted to help.”

  The man, Lonnie, seemed to just deflate. He closed the door and Lance heard the chains slide and drop. The door opened and the massive man stood there looking at him.

  “Scoot back kid. I’ll talk to ya for a few, but then it’s back home for ya.”

  Lance stepped back and let the man come outside. He already had another beer and sat down in his lawn chair again. He took a long pull from the can and sat there before speaking.

  “What’d you say your name was?”

  “Lance, sir. Lance Tullos.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Lonnie nodded but didn’t look at him.

  “Your dad’s the dentist. He does good work.”

  Lance looked around and found an old wooden crate. He turned it bottom up and sat on the other side of the door facing Lonnie.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Kid, you’re here because you heard I used to be knight and you want me to train you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lonnie continued to look down the cleared dirt road toward the gate.

  “Do you know why I USED to be a knight?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Probably aught to have asked that.”

  They both sat in silence. Finally Lance worked up his courage.

  “Mr. Lonnie, can you tell me why you’re not a knight any more?”

  Lonnie leaned his head back and exhaled. It was surprisingly quiet out here.

  “I killed another knight.”

  Lance’s eyes widened.

  “Did you mean to?”

  Lonnie finally turned and looked at him and he looked miserable.

  “Now, I’m going to tell you this, and you’re going to listen to the whole thing. And when I’m done, if you still want to be a knight? Well, something’s probably wrong with you.”

  Lance just nodded.

  “I was one of the second generation knights. The ones right before the blood oaths but right after the PToG got adopted. There was a tight group of us back then. Me, Randolph, Zozimus the Troubadour, Glen Lingal, Robert Lawless, and Sir Alfred McAlpine.”

  Lance sat up.

  “You were one of the Cavaliers?”

  Lonnie turned his face away but Lance could see he was smiling. Whatever had happened he was still proud they were remembered.

  “I was. McAlpine’s Cavaliers. Hot damn, we were IT back then. The whole thing fell apart of course. Glen settled in after marriage. We went looking for bigger and better stories. Lawless, well. . . Forget Lawless.”

  "Done and done." Lance said.

  “Me, Rand, Zozimus, and Alfred stuck together. We were riding back into Mississippi on our way somewhere. Georgia most likely. I don’t remember now. We saw a call for help on the boards from Louisville. Up in north Mississippi?”

  “I’ve been there.” Lance said.

  “Weird up there.” Lonnie said. “Anyway, there was a Monster King there that had taken over the coliseum. It had it’s horrible bride in there and she was starting to spit out babies left and right. Like I said, weird shit in north Mississippi.”

  “So what did you do?” Lance asked.

  “Well, we stood around for a while discussing tactics. Me and Alf were arguing about whether it was better to take out the King or the Queen first. I kept saying the Queen so we could stop the babies, but Alf was always squeamish about anything that might hurt kids. Even monster kids.”

  Lonnie frowned, remembering.

  “So then Rand pulls out this thing we’d only used for true infestations. He pulled out a flame thrower off the cart, kicked the door in, and he just started roasting them alive.”

  Lance suddenly felt sick. Lonnie didn’t look much better. The man turned again and looked at him.

  “Good. Good. I’m glad to see that look. Be glad you weren’t there. There’s a bizarre kindness to the sword, boy. It’s fairly quick. You’re looking them in the eyes. It’s fair. There’s a respect between you and them when you have to be that personal.” He shivered. “I STILL wake up at night hearing the screams and howls and crying coming from that building. I don’t care if they were monsters. They were in there talking and there must have been forty children in there.”

  Lance could picture it in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was accurate but he’d seen enough horror movies that he could guess. Lonnie continued the story, interrupting his dark thoughts.

  “Alf was screaming for him to stop. Zozimus had shut up even, and that took a LOT to do. I guess I snapped. Rand had always been a loose cannon. It had been something eating away at me for years. His needless cruelty. His disdain for children. His weird lost nights with girls. Well, I’d reached my limit.”

  There was a very long silence that everything around them seemed to respect, except for a single crow somewhere. Lonnie spoke again.

  “I pulled my sword and I butchered that man like a pig.”

  Silence reigned again. Lance waited as long as he could before asking.

  “They ex-communicated you?”

  Lonnie laughed.

  “No, boy. They didn’t. Alf said it needed to be done. The Order said I’d probably done them a service. Zoz put that ‘Justice was served that day’ in the Chronicles. And the thing is, that’s most knights. They’re all criminals trying to be clean. And they fail.”

  Lance was confused and it must of shown on his face because when Lonnie saw it he stared at him.

  “Don’t you see?!” Lonnie yelled at him. “I murdered a man! There wasn’t enough to bury! And NO ONE involved with the Order blinked an eye! That was just a Tuesday for them!”

  Lonnie’s anger drained from him and Lance understood now.

  “I saw what I was capable of and I didn’t want to have anything to do with an organization that would have me as a member. I ran into Glen on my way down here after that. He told me to watch myself because he’d be watching me.”

  “So when I said TERRY Lingal. . .”

  Lonnie shrugged.

  “Sounds like his boy didn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to justice. Figured he came here to check in on me and found Lawless. But I suppose his daddy died too early. He probably doesn’t know a thing about me.”

  Lance sat there for a while thinking. Lonnie was content to sit there, having remembered his beer.

  “Mr. Lonnie?”

  “You should probably go home, kid.”

  “Mr. Lonnie,” he began again, taking the question out of his voice, “Terry said that knights are supposed to hold themselves to a higher standard. I know you probably feel like you failed that standard. Maybe, on some level you did, but I think you did what needed to be done. I’m sorry you had to be the ax-man to do it, but I think you did it because there was something worse brewing.”

  Lance stood up and walked over to the man and looked down at him. He carefully put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you for doing the right thing even if it didn’t feel right at the time. I’ll go home now.”

  Lance turned and started walking down the long road to the gate. He hadn’t gotten far before Lonnie yelled at him again.

  “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” Lance turned and the man was standing, fists shaking. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO ABSOLVE ME OF THIS?!”

  Maybe Lance should have been frightened at the open rage, but he just felt awful for Lonnie.

  “I don’t know.” He said. “I just thought someone should.”

  That sent Lonnie into a fit of kicking scrap and screaming. Lance just stood there watching him. He considered leaving the man to his pain but he thought, No. Terry would stay, wouldn’t he?

  The man finally kicked something that was lighter than he expected, his foot swung high, his other foot came out from under him, and he fell on his back with a groan. Lance ran back up the road and started trying to help Lonnie to his feet. He expected the man to shake him off but, instead, Lonnie accepted the help and got to his knees and then feet.

  “Boy,” he began.

  “Lance, Mr. Lonnie. Please call me Lance.”

  “Lance.” He said. “I don’t deserve to train you. I don’t deserve to train anybody. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you enough so you don’t cut your own arm off with that sword, ok?”

  Lance smiled.

  “I’d like that, sir.”

  “You have a shield?”

  Lance looked at himself.

  “Uh, no, sir.”

  Lonnie threw his hands up.

  “JESUS. The hell are they doing with you kids these days? Come inside and I’ll see if I still have one. JESUS.”

  Lance smiled as he followed the man inside.