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I stole chase's CSS and fixed no typos here is my entry, tied for 2nd place with Eleanor in this years Small Writing Competition!
Our Kind
by juno
Surprised squawks filled the air as Jory's lance splintered with a crack.
Edric did not immediately fall, but the jarring force of the impact and the shift in stability made him lose his balance. He toppled unceremoniously from his horse with a thud.
"Yield." He called out redundantly, his voice muffled by the dirt he'd planted his face in.
Jory grinned triumphantly. He trotted back over to Edric on his borrowed grey horse and tossed aside the broken jousting lance. Without dismounting, he held out his hand and pulled the other boy back up on his feet. "Perhaps one day you'll best me." He said smugly.
"You say that like I haven't before," Edric scoffed, roughly brushing dirt off his armor.
"Alright, but it didn't really count before I actually knew how to ride a horse."
"Whatever you say." The boy sniffed indignantly, but he conceded with a small smile: "Well, I'll admit it - if you were to receive proper training, you would be unstoppable."
Jory's heart jumped at the notion, but he didn't dare to feel too optimistic. "You really think I could?"
"Why not?" Edric shrugged. "Just come train with me as much as you can, and when you make it to page, or even just straight to squire, you'll be around seasoned knights and the like all the time. And before long..."
"Knighthood!" Jory beamed. It was a dream they both shared since they were very young, but lately, the dream seemed more and more within reach. Though not yet twelve, Jory in particular seemed to have been growing taller and stronger every day - a fact he lorded over the other boy often, as Edric's twelfth name day was approaching faster than his own - but he also liked to believe their frequent training sessions out here and the hard work he personally put into learning from Edric was a prime factor in his rapid improvement.
"Knighthood." His friend repeated back to him with a grin. As the evening's light started to fade, they quickly gathered the supplies they came with and prepared to return to the castle. "Come on, let's head home before it gets dark."
Jory nodded. "We should try to get the horses back before Thom's shift ends. The other stable boys might tell on us. Well, me, at least."
"I still have to attend my reading lessons." Edric sighed. "We could have stayed out a bit longer otherwise, but father will be cross with me if he hears I'm late again."
"No, that's alright, I need to head back to the kitchens anyway - Violet is probably mad at me, too." Jory fiddled with his reins for a bit, thinking about all the work he still needed to do before supper. "Well, then. After you, my lord."
"No, no - after you, my lord of the pots and pans." Edric bowed dramatically in jest before mounting his horse again.
"Stop it." Jory laughed. "Let's go."
---
"So good of you to join us," Violet huffed. "Where've you been?"
"Training with Edric." Jory answered, grabbing a wooden stool to position it near the washbasin. "Don't worry, I will not have supper before I am finished with my duties; these dishes will be spotless."
"Training? You mean fighting?" The old head cook asked sharply. Her voice was still stern, but he could detect the faintest hint of apprehension in it as she looked up from her station.
"Jousting. And riding." He replied matter-of-factly as he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. "Don't worry, we're friends."
Violet tsked. "You could never be friends. Now, don't ever go and do that again, do you hear me? It could be dangerous if someone sees you striking the little lord with a stick."
"It's called a lance, and we are friends," Jory retorted emphatically. "He even invited me to his name day tourney - I'm to compete against him and the other boys of the castle."
"Aye, you might be his favourite scullion, but that doesn't make you friends." One of the older kitchen boys quipped. Jon had a habit of talking too much and chiming in to conversations he was not part of.
Jory ignored him. "He says the winner of the tourney gets to ask Lord Valtheron for anything within his power as a prize, and he will grant it true."
"Hah!" Violet gave a sharp laugh. "No, lad, the little lord gets to ask his father for anything when he wins his name day tourney. Which he will, everyone'll make sure of that."
"Oh, let the boy dream, you old hag. You remember what it's like to have dreams, don't you?" Jon's teasing earned him a swift smack to the back of his head. "What d'you want from the old lord, anyway?"
"Well," he started explaining excitedly. "Edric and I-"
"Lord Edric." Violet corrected him. "You are young, but not that young anymore - you are expected to know how to address the family."
"But he said-" Jory began, but he saw no point in arguing with the woman. He sighed. "Lord Edric and I have a plan. If I win, of course - I would ask his lord father to give me the honour of squiring for Lord Edric and learn to be a proper knight, so we can fight side by side one day."
There was a slight pause after his response. The noises of clattering plates and utensils filled the silence, but this was quickly followed by a snicker from Jon that ended up eliciting a round of laughter in the room. Violet smiled. "Hush, now. What'd you say? Let him dream."
Jory's face reddened as he glared at them. "And I wouldn't have to scrub pots with you miserable lot anymore."
"Yes, yes, very good. Go on, then, Ser Knight of the Pots." The old lady reached over to ruffle his hair, and Jory desperately tried to duck away. Her hands always smelled like garlic. "Remember, no supper until these are all spotless."
---
Despite what Violet told him, the boys continued to meet up to practice their riding and form whenever they could.
It was kind of Edric to come with him; he received plenty of professional training from the castle's master-at-arms already, but he had complained often that everybody seemed to go easy on him for fear of hurting the lord's son, so training with Jory felt more real.
The night before the tourney, he was so excited he could barely sleep. He knew he had to be rested to joust well, though, and he would be waking up earlier than Edric and most of the other participants, since he also needed to help out in the kitchen well before the start of the event.
After making preparations for the refreshments to be served at the tourney, he made his way to the castle's tiltyard with Violet and a couple other kitchen staff.
"Slow down, boy!" Violet called to him as he sprinted to the venue. "You're going to spill that wine!"
But he couldn't bear to wait - arriving several paces before the others and quickly setting down the barrel in his arms, he was in awe to see the normally drab yard transformed into a magnificent and vibrant scene, decorated with colourful banners and pennants featuring the House Valtheron's silver hawk sigil.
The central pavilion was still in the process of being adorned with luxurious fabrics and cushions, but he could tell this was to be the Valtheron family's seating area. Surrounding the tiltyard, wooden galleries had been assembled for attending guests and spectators.
Several tents had been raised as well. As the start of the tourney drew near, more and more people filed in and he noted the tents were where participants went to get changed. He recognized pages and stable boys among them, equal parts proud and nervous that he was the only to-be jouster in the tourney that worked in one of the 'lower' stations of the castle.
He continued to help bringing foods out from the kitchen, making several rounds before all the wine, ale, cheese, bread and pastries were neatly set up by the family's pavilion. During one of his final trip from the kitchen, he saw that Edric had arrived - the young lord was seated with his parents, clad in brand-new armor and waving at him enthusiastically when he spotted Jory. Jory waved back as Edric pointed to the tents, signaling to him to get ready.
Good luck! He mouthed to him, and Jory flashed him a grin and nodded back.
---
The tent provided shade, but it was still hot and stuffy in there, especially after putting on the rusty iron armor. There weren't enough sets available for everybody - aside from the pages, none of the other boys had their own armor, so once a jouster had been eliminated, they would pass their armor to one of the participants still competing. It wasn't necessarily ill-fitting, but it certainly wasn't made to fit Jory specifically.
Three wins. Jory unhorsed two boys and even went up against a squire, albeit a very green one. He was older and stronger than the others, but Jory accumulated enough points to win their matchup without unseating him, through the quality and accuracy of his hits as he repeatedly stuck his opponent's armor and shield.
He imagined Edric would be mowing through the competition as well. It should be their match soon. Anytime now.
"Esteemed guests of Castle Valtheron, it is the moment you've all been waiting for. Please join your hands together once more to welcome our grand finalists back to the tiltyard! Lord Edric of House Valtheron! Ser Jory of the kitchens!" He rolled his eyes as he exited the tent, preparing to mount his horse. The herald found it very amusing to announce Jory this way each time, despite him telling him 'just Jory is fine'. But no matter. This is it.
To win the tournament is one thing, but he had not forgotten his primary goal. How often is it that kitchen boys could become knights? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He must win.
As the applause died down, they both rode towards the middle of the fence to exchange bows, a courtesy all participants were made to do at the beginning of each tilt. Up close now, Jory could see Edric's armor in more detail. Intricate, painted, but also a different material. Was this steel? He wasn't a metalworker so he couldn't be sure, but he could definitely see a difference that was more than just the aesthetic. He would be lying if he said this didn't rattle him a little.
No matter. He told himself again. He just needed to stay confident in himself.
He smiled and bowed at Edric. "Don't go easy on me, now."
"Nor you, my friend."
With that, they pulled down the visors of their helms one final time and rode to the opposite ends of the yard to await their signals.
The familiar trumpet fanfare sounded, and they were off. He spurred his steed forward with a thunderous charge, and Edric met him head-on. The ground trembled beneath pounding hooves, and then - with a deafening crack - the lances collided.
The difference in their equipment was immediately felt; Edric hardly flinched, and that was all he needed to confirm his earlier speculation. He knew enough about the metals to understand steel absorbed impact far better than iron.
Jory didn't fare better on the second pass, either - tourney lances are made to break for safety, but Edric's shattered much more cleanly. Reinforcement points. Discouraged but not ready to give up, Jory had to think quickly. He thought about winning through points instead, as he had done with the squire, but as he rode past and assessed his equipment again...
Unlike his plain wooden shield, Edric's had a metal rim, but as he stared at it he noticed one of the fastenings glinted strangely in the sunlight. It must have been knocked loose earlier. If he could just...
As they closed in, Jory veered his horse slightly, presenting a deceptive angle. His lance struck low, aiming for the weak spot near Edric's shield edge. The force of the impact was unexpected, jarring the other boy's grip. In a swift motion, Jory used this moment to his advantage. He gripped his lance tightly and drove it forward with all his strength. Through their visors, he could briefly see a look of surprise in Edric's eyes, and then...
He tumbled backwards off his horse.
Yes!
"Yield!" He could hear Edric shout, and as they both lifted their visors, he could see a weary smile stretch across his face. "You-" he panted. "-got me really good that time."
Jory grinned back as he dismounted, helping him up as he usually does. "That time?" he ribbed, and they both laughed.
But as Jory looked around the yard, they seemed to be the only ones. The scattered applause died down quickly as all eyes flickered up to the pavilion. He followed their stares, and as he did, his eyes scanned past Violet by the serving table. He could see the look of horror on her face before his eyes landed on Lord Valtheron, whose steely gaze pierced his.
The lord's cold, blue eyes and imposing presence always frightened him, but especially so in this moment. He quickly lowered his eyes.
"Go help Lord Edric to the infirmary." He wasn't yelling, but the lord's voice could be heard loudly and clearly. Still looking down, Jory could hear a servant shuffling over to them.
"Father, I'm fine-" Edric began.
"You will go to the infirmary." He repeated sternly, but not unkindly. "Go - I will have you escorted back when it is time for the feast." He continued, and Edric was quickly led away without another word. The lord turned his attention to Jory now. "Boy."
An oppressive silence filled the yard as the lord addressed him. He didn't want to look up, but... he had to. Be brave now. This is it.
"I-" Jory plucked up the courage and looked up to meet his gaze. "My lord, I wanted to ask-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Violet rushed over to his side, falling to her knees. "My lord! I apologize for this one's insolence. He's young, very young - you know how boys are at this age. Leave him to us, I will take him back to the kitchens at once. We will see to it that he is properly educated and disciplined. You musn't bother with... unpleasant matters on such an important day."
What? Jory looked at her, stunned, but before he could say anything, Lady Valtheron also spoke up.
"Dear, she's right - don't cause a scene. Not on your son's name day." She advised simply.
The lord continued to stare at him for what seemed like an eternity, but finally, he looked away and sat back down. "Fine. Go."
Violet finally exhaled, a grin breaking over her face. "Thank you, my lord. My lady." She breathed. She stood up and bowed deeply before turning to Jory. "Come with me."
"But I won-"
"Shh!" She sharply hushed as she whisked him off the field. Violet held his hand firmly as they walked briskly and silently all the way back to the kitchens, ignoring his confused mutterings until the doors were firmly closed behind them.
"You stupid boy, what did you go and do that for?!"
"I won!" He said again, loudly now and incredibly annoyed at the old lady. "He said- I was to be his squire and then we could be knights- what did you go and do that for?!"
"Knighthood- you're lucky to still have your head, honestly." She shouted back in exasperation, hands over her face. "Gods, if only you had half as much brains as you did brawn, but no, you had to be a scullion who's good at knocking boys off horses, with ambitions past your-"
Her scolding ceased when she looked back up from her hands. He couldn't see what his own face looked like in that moment, but it must have reflected the hurt and confusion he felt inside, as she stopped yelling immediately. And even though he tried very hard not to cry, he could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Oh, Jory," she reached out, her voice softening. "You silly boy. Come here."
"I want-" Now that she had seen his tears, he just let them keep falling. "I don't want to be a scullion. I want to be a knight."
"I know, my sweet." She said gently as she held him close. She smelled of grease and garlic, but her warmth was comforting. "It's just- it's not for our kind."
"That's- it's not fair." Was all he could say. He thought back to the tourney - all of it wasn't fair. He was disadvantaged with the equipment alone, but he still won. He tried so hard. And yet...
"It's not." She agreed simply. He looked up at her sad smile. The harsh sunlight outside streamed through the windows, illuminating her kind, weathered eyes with the prominent lines in the corners. Jory wondered what dreams a younger Violet also gave up on in her youth, because they were born wrong.
He opened his mouth to ask, but all he could do was cry.
---
"There you are!" The young lord's familiar, upbeat voice echoed through the stone halls of the castle.
Jory bit his lip, contemplating whether he should just pretend to not have heard him, but the halls were fairly empty and he could not move very fast with the water he had been tasked to fetch. Slowly, he turned to face him, careful not to spill the brimming buckets he was holding. He set them down as Edric approached. "Where have you been? I was worried father actually had you punished or something. You are not hurt, are you?" The boy grabbed Jory's shoulders and pulled him close, examining him for injuries.
"No, my lord." Jory mumbled. "I apologize for having worried you."
"Oh. Well, that is a relief." A grin lit up his face. "You haven't come to see me in so long, I've been so bored. Tried to get Thom to come riding with me a couple times, but he's no fun." He prattled on a bit about the two weeks they had not seen each other, but trailed off when the enthusiasm was not reciprocated. "Hey, is everything alright?" His smile faltered.
"I'm fine, my lord."
"Busy few weeks in the kitchens, then, my lord of the pots and pans?" he teased, attempting to muster a smile once again, but it, too, quickly vanished when Jory continued responding curtly.
"Yes, my lord."
"Hey, come on. What's going on? It's just us here." He frowned, glancing around. "Look, I'm really sorry about the tourney, I didn't- I really didn't think it would be that big of a deal. I said I didn't want any special treatment. I even told my father after - you did win the tourney and he should grant you your wish! But apparently I have a squire chosen for me already, so it would have been improper to offer the position to- well- to you." He flushed red as he fumbled over his last few words.
To a scullion, you mean. Jory thought to himself glumly. That's what you meant to say.
"But you know I would much prefer you." The young lord continued. "You're my friend, and we always said- look, I'm sure there's another way we just-"
"We could never be friends," Jory said, so softly it was almost a whisper. "My lord."
Edric took a step back, dumbfounded. It was a moment of bitterness that made him say that, but it was true. Edric must know this, too; tourneys and knighthood were his birthright, and scrubbing pots and pans was Jory's.
He knew Edric had no say in what he was born as any more than he did, but he couldn't help resenting him for it. And true as it was that he could never be a knight, he and the lord could never be friends. Not truly.
"I... must return with the water now. By your leave." With a deep bow that he was taught to greet and take leave by his superiors with, he picked up the buckets of water and turned away from the future Lord Valtheron, hurrying back to his station in the kitchens.
Edric did not immediately fall, but the jarring force of the impact and the shift in stability made him lose his balance. He toppled unceremoniously from his horse with a thud.
"Yield." He called out redundantly, his voice muffled by the dirt he'd planted his face in.
Jory grinned triumphantly. He trotted back over to Edric on his borrowed grey horse and tossed aside the broken jousting lance. Without dismounting, he held out his hand and pulled the other boy back up on his feet. "Perhaps one day you'll best me." He said smugly.
"You say that like I haven't before," Edric scoffed, roughly brushing dirt off his armor.
"Alright, but it didn't really count before I actually knew how to ride a horse."
"Whatever you say." The boy sniffed indignantly, but he conceded with a small smile: "Well, I'll admit it - if you were to receive proper training, you would be unstoppable."
Jory's heart jumped at the notion, but he didn't dare to feel too optimistic. "You really think I could?"
"Why not?" Edric shrugged. "Just come train with me as much as you can, and when you make it to page, or even just straight to squire, you'll be around seasoned knights and the like all the time. And before long..."
"Knighthood!" Jory beamed. It was a dream they both shared since they were very young, but lately, the dream seemed more and more within reach. Though not yet twelve, Jory in particular seemed to have been growing taller and stronger every day - a fact he lorded over the other boy often, as Edric's twelfth name day was approaching faster than his own - but he also liked to believe their frequent training sessions out here and the hard work he personally put into learning from Edric was a prime factor in his rapid improvement.
"Knighthood." His friend repeated back to him with a grin. As the evening's light started to fade, they quickly gathered the supplies they came with and prepared to return to the castle. "Come on, let's head home before it gets dark."
Jory nodded. "We should try to get the horses back before Thom's shift ends. The other stable boys might tell on us. Well, me, at least."
"I still have to attend my reading lessons." Edric sighed. "We could have stayed out a bit longer otherwise, but father will be cross with me if he hears I'm late again."
"No, that's alright, I need to head back to the kitchens anyway - Violet is probably mad at me, too." Jory fiddled with his reins for a bit, thinking about all the work he still needed to do before supper. "Well, then. After you, my lord."
"No, no - after you, my lord of the pots and pans." Edric bowed dramatically in jest before mounting his horse again.
"Stop it." Jory laughed. "Let's go."
---
"So good of you to join us," Violet huffed. "Where've you been?"
"Training with Edric." Jory answered, grabbing a wooden stool to position it near the washbasin. "Don't worry, I will not have supper before I am finished with my duties; these dishes will be spotless."
"Training? You mean fighting?" The old head cook asked sharply. Her voice was still stern, but he could detect the faintest hint of apprehension in it as she looked up from her station.
"Jousting. And riding." He replied matter-of-factly as he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. "Don't worry, we're friends."
Violet tsked. "You could never be friends. Now, don't ever go and do that again, do you hear me? It could be dangerous if someone sees you striking the little lord with a stick."
"It's called a lance, and we are friends," Jory retorted emphatically. "He even invited me to his name day tourney - I'm to compete against him and the other boys of the castle."
"Aye, you might be his favourite scullion, but that doesn't make you friends." One of the older kitchen boys quipped. Jon had a habit of talking too much and chiming in to conversations he was not part of.
Jory ignored him. "He says the winner of the tourney gets to ask Lord Valtheron for anything within his power as a prize, and he will grant it true."
"Hah!" Violet gave a sharp laugh. "No, lad, the little lord gets to ask his father for anything when he wins his name day tourney. Which he will, everyone'll make sure of that."
"Oh, let the boy dream, you old hag. You remember what it's like to have dreams, don't you?" Jon's teasing earned him a swift smack to the back of his head. "What d'you want from the old lord, anyway?"
"Well," he started explaining excitedly. "Edric and I-"
"Lord Edric." Violet corrected him. "You are young, but not that young anymore - you are expected to know how to address the family."
"But he said-" Jory began, but he saw no point in arguing with the woman. He sighed. "Lord Edric and I have a plan. If I win, of course - I would ask his lord father to give me the honour of squiring for Lord Edric and learn to be a proper knight, so we can fight side by side one day."
There was a slight pause after his response. The noises of clattering plates and utensils filled the silence, but this was quickly followed by a snicker from Jon that ended up eliciting a round of laughter in the room. Violet smiled. "Hush, now. What'd you say? Let him dream."
Jory's face reddened as he glared at them. "And I wouldn't have to scrub pots with you miserable lot anymore."
"Yes, yes, very good. Go on, then, Ser Knight of the Pots." The old lady reached over to ruffle his hair, and Jory desperately tried to duck away. Her hands always smelled like garlic. "Remember, no supper until these are all spotless."
---
Despite what Violet told him, the boys continued to meet up to practice their riding and form whenever they could.
It was kind of Edric to come with him; he received plenty of professional training from the castle's master-at-arms already, but he had complained often that everybody seemed to go easy on him for fear of hurting the lord's son, so training with Jory felt more real.
The night before the tourney, he was so excited he could barely sleep. He knew he had to be rested to joust well, though, and he would be waking up earlier than Edric and most of the other participants, since he also needed to help out in the kitchen well before the start of the event.
After making preparations for the refreshments to be served at the tourney, he made his way to the castle's tiltyard with Violet and a couple other kitchen staff.
"Slow down, boy!" Violet called to him as he sprinted to the venue. "You're going to spill that wine!"
But he couldn't bear to wait - arriving several paces before the others and quickly setting down the barrel in his arms, he was in awe to see the normally drab yard transformed into a magnificent and vibrant scene, decorated with colourful banners and pennants featuring the House Valtheron's silver hawk sigil.
The central pavilion was still in the process of being adorned with luxurious fabrics and cushions, but he could tell this was to be the Valtheron family's seating area. Surrounding the tiltyard, wooden galleries had been assembled for attending guests and spectators.
Several tents had been raised as well. As the start of the tourney drew near, more and more people filed in and he noted the tents were where participants went to get changed. He recognized pages and stable boys among them, equal parts proud and nervous that he was the only to-be jouster in the tourney that worked in one of the 'lower' stations of the castle.
He continued to help bringing foods out from the kitchen, making several rounds before all the wine, ale, cheese, bread and pastries were neatly set up by the family's pavilion. During one of his final trip from the kitchen, he saw that Edric had arrived - the young lord was seated with his parents, clad in brand-new armor and waving at him enthusiastically when he spotted Jory. Jory waved back as Edric pointed to the tents, signaling to him to get ready.
Good luck! He mouthed to him, and Jory flashed him a grin and nodded back.
---
The tent provided shade, but it was still hot and stuffy in there, especially after putting on the rusty iron armor. There weren't enough sets available for everybody - aside from the pages, none of the other boys had their own armor, so once a jouster had been eliminated, they would pass their armor to one of the participants still competing. It wasn't necessarily ill-fitting, but it certainly wasn't made to fit Jory specifically.
Three wins. Jory unhorsed two boys and even went up against a squire, albeit a very green one. He was older and stronger than the others, but Jory accumulated enough points to win their matchup without unseating him, through the quality and accuracy of his hits as he repeatedly stuck his opponent's armor and shield.
He imagined Edric would be mowing through the competition as well. It should be their match soon. Anytime now.
"Esteemed guests of Castle Valtheron, it is the moment you've all been waiting for. Please join your hands together once more to welcome our grand finalists back to the tiltyard! Lord Edric of House Valtheron! Ser Jory of the kitchens!" He rolled his eyes as he exited the tent, preparing to mount his horse. The herald found it very amusing to announce Jory this way each time, despite him telling him 'just Jory is fine'. But no matter. This is it.
To win the tournament is one thing, but he had not forgotten his primary goal. How often is it that kitchen boys could become knights? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He must win.
As the applause died down, they both rode towards the middle of the fence to exchange bows, a courtesy all participants were made to do at the beginning of each tilt. Up close now, Jory could see Edric's armor in more detail. Intricate, painted, but also a different material. Was this steel? He wasn't a metalworker so he couldn't be sure, but he could definitely see a difference that was more than just the aesthetic. He would be lying if he said this didn't rattle him a little.
No matter. He told himself again. He just needed to stay confident in himself.
He smiled and bowed at Edric. "Don't go easy on me, now."
"Nor you, my friend."
With that, they pulled down the visors of their helms one final time and rode to the opposite ends of the yard to await their signals.
The familiar trumpet fanfare sounded, and they were off. He spurred his steed forward with a thunderous charge, and Edric met him head-on. The ground trembled beneath pounding hooves, and then - with a deafening crack - the lances collided.
The difference in their equipment was immediately felt; Edric hardly flinched, and that was all he needed to confirm his earlier speculation. He knew enough about the metals to understand steel absorbed impact far better than iron.
Jory didn't fare better on the second pass, either - tourney lances are made to break for safety, but Edric's shattered much more cleanly. Reinforcement points. Discouraged but not ready to give up, Jory had to think quickly. He thought about winning through points instead, as he had done with the squire, but as he rode past and assessed his equipment again...
Unlike his plain wooden shield, Edric's had a metal rim, but as he stared at it he noticed one of the fastenings glinted strangely in the sunlight. It must have been knocked loose earlier. If he could just...
As they closed in, Jory veered his horse slightly, presenting a deceptive angle. His lance struck low, aiming for the weak spot near Edric's shield edge. The force of the impact was unexpected, jarring the other boy's grip. In a swift motion, Jory used this moment to his advantage. He gripped his lance tightly and drove it forward with all his strength. Through their visors, he could briefly see a look of surprise in Edric's eyes, and then...
He tumbled backwards off his horse.
Yes!
"Yield!" He could hear Edric shout, and as they both lifted their visors, he could see a weary smile stretch across his face. "You-" he panted. "-got me really good that time."
Jory grinned back as he dismounted, helping him up as he usually does. "That time?" he ribbed, and they both laughed.
But as Jory looked around the yard, they seemed to be the only ones. The scattered applause died down quickly as all eyes flickered up to the pavilion. He followed their stares, and as he did, his eyes scanned past Violet by the serving table. He could see the look of horror on her face before his eyes landed on Lord Valtheron, whose steely gaze pierced his.
The lord's cold, blue eyes and imposing presence always frightened him, but especially so in this moment. He quickly lowered his eyes.
"Go help Lord Edric to the infirmary." He wasn't yelling, but the lord's voice could be heard loudly and clearly. Still looking down, Jory could hear a servant shuffling over to them.
"Father, I'm fine-" Edric began.
"You will go to the infirmary." He repeated sternly, but not unkindly. "Go - I will have you escorted back when it is time for the feast." He continued, and Edric was quickly led away without another word. The lord turned his attention to Jory now. "Boy."
An oppressive silence filled the yard as the lord addressed him. He didn't want to look up, but... he had to. Be brave now. This is it.
"I-" Jory plucked up the courage and looked up to meet his gaze. "My lord, I wanted to ask-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Violet rushed over to his side, falling to her knees. "My lord! I apologize for this one's insolence. He's young, very young - you know how boys are at this age. Leave him to us, I will take him back to the kitchens at once. We will see to it that he is properly educated and disciplined. You musn't bother with... unpleasant matters on such an important day."
What? Jory looked at her, stunned, but before he could say anything, Lady Valtheron also spoke up.
"Dear, she's right - don't cause a scene. Not on your son's name day." She advised simply.
The lord continued to stare at him for what seemed like an eternity, but finally, he looked away and sat back down. "Fine. Go."
Violet finally exhaled, a grin breaking over her face. "Thank you, my lord. My lady." She breathed. She stood up and bowed deeply before turning to Jory. "Come with me."
"But I won-"
"Shh!" She sharply hushed as she whisked him off the field. Violet held his hand firmly as they walked briskly and silently all the way back to the kitchens, ignoring his confused mutterings until the doors were firmly closed behind them.
"You stupid boy, what did you go and do that for?!"
"I won!" He said again, loudly now and incredibly annoyed at the old lady. "He said- I was to be his squire and then we could be knights- what did you go and do that for?!"
"Knighthood- you're lucky to still have your head, honestly." She shouted back in exasperation, hands over her face. "Gods, if only you had half as much brains as you did brawn, but no, you had to be a scullion who's good at knocking boys off horses, with ambitions past your-"
Her scolding ceased when she looked back up from her hands. He couldn't see what his own face looked like in that moment, but it must have reflected the hurt and confusion he felt inside, as she stopped yelling immediately. And even though he tried very hard not to cry, he could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Oh, Jory," she reached out, her voice softening. "You silly boy. Come here."
"I want-" Now that she had seen his tears, he just let them keep falling. "I don't want to be a scullion. I want to be a knight."
"I know, my sweet." She said gently as she held him close. She smelled of grease and garlic, but her warmth was comforting. "It's just- it's not for our kind."
"That's- it's not fair." Was all he could say. He thought back to the tourney - all of it wasn't fair. He was disadvantaged with the equipment alone, but he still won. He tried so hard. And yet...
"It's not." She agreed simply. He looked up at her sad smile. The harsh sunlight outside streamed through the windows, illuminating her kind, weathered eyes with the prominent lines in the corners. Jory wondered what dreams a younger Violet also gave up on in her youth, because they were born wrong.
He opened his mouth to ask, but all he could do was cry.
---
"There you are!" The young lord's familiar, upbeat voice echoed through the stone halls of the castle.
Jory bit his lip, contemplating whether he should just pretend to not have heard him, but the halls were fairly empty and he could not move very fast with the water he had been tasked to fetch. Slowly, he turned to face him, careful not to spill the brimming buckets he was holding. He set them down as Edric approached. "Where have you been? I was worried father actually had you punished or something. You are not hurt, are you?" The boy grabbed Jory's shoulders and pulled him close, examining him for injuries.
"No, my lord." Jory mumbled. "I apologize for having worried you."
"Oh. Well, that is a relief." A grin lit up his face. "You haven't come to see me in so long, I've been so bored. Tried to get Thom to come riding with me a couple times, but he's no fun." He prattled on a bit about the two weeks they had not seen each other, but trailed off when the enthusiasm was not reciprocated. "Hey, is everything alright?" His smile faltered.
"I'm fine, my lord."
"Busy few weeks in the kitchens, then, my lord of the pots and pans?" he teased, attempting to muster a smile once again, but it, too, quickly vanished when Jory continued responding curtly.
"Yes, my lord."
"Hey, come on. What's going on? It's just us here." He frowned, glancing around. "Look, I'm really sorry about the tourney, I didn't- I really didn't think it would be that big of a deal. I said I didn't want any special treatment. I even told my father after - you did win the tourney and he should grant you your wish! But apparently I have a squire chosen for me already, so it would have been improper to offer the position to- well- to you." He flushed red as he fumbled over his last few words.
To a scullion, you mean. Jory thought to himself glumly. That's what you meant to say.
"But you know I would much prefer you." The young lord continued. "You're my friend, and we always said- look, I'm sure there's another way we just-"
"We could never be friends," Jory said, so softly it was almost a whisper. "My lord."
Edric took a step back, dumbfounded. It was a moment of bitterness that made him say that, but it was true. Edric must know this, too; tourneys and knighthood were his birthright, and scrubbing pots and pans was Jory's.
He knew Edric had no say in what he was born as any more than he did, but he couldn't help resenting him for it. And true as it was that he could never be a knight, he and the lord could never be friends. Not truly.
"I... must return with the water now. By your leave." With a deep bow that he was taught to greet and take leave by his superiors with, he picked up the buckets of water and turned away from the future Lord Valtheron, hurrying back to his station in the kitchens.
Spoiler: Judges' Feedback
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