Correl of Otley
Correl and Winston stayed together for the remainder of the day. Originally they stayed in the knights barracks, but watching the knight train together became boring after a while, and Correl returned to her own room, followed by Winston. It was coming together well, enough. Everything she’d brought with her had been perfectly placed away, her new clothing, with the Gauwynn house colors hung up, proudly displayed on a dummy in plain view. And her sword, her new blade they’d crafted for her laid resting in its scabbard on her desk.
Correl considered packing, she would need to get everything together soon enough before they departed again. But, she didn’t want Winston to wait on her to pack her things away. The boy was busying himself with the sword, pulling it from its scabbard a little at a time and marveling at his reflection in the steel.
“You could become a knight you know…” Correl voiced, gaining his attention. Winston closed the sword and placed it back on the edge tentatively. “Eh…I-I’m not that confident around swords…” The confused look on Correl’s face prompted an extra, “The metal tends to… burn.” And while that hadn’t answered any of the questions forming in Correl’s mind and playing on her tongue, she figured perhaps the boy had an intolerance to metal.
“Burn? Are you alright holding that sword then?” Correl asked, and Winston waved her off, “I’ve learned over the years that if something is covering the metal, I’ll be fine.” He laughed dryly, then kind of coughed it away as if he’d misspoke. Correl let it go for the moment in favor of strategically placing things where she could get them, when she needed to. It was preferable to actually fully packing.
Confident with the few items and clothing she’d taken out, Correl took herself and Winston toward the main halls of the house. She taken only one thing with her when she left her room: her sword. Just to have it with her. She honestly should have started to keep it on her when she’d first gotten it a few days earlier, but she was already carrying the sword Lord Brighid had given her. She could still remember when she originally was approached about having a proper weapon.
“I…uh, I have this?” She offered the sword that Lord Brighid had given her to keep back in Odessa. Several gasps, and murmurs followed this action. But one of the friendlier knights walked up to her.
“That blade is nice, but it was made for Lord Brighid, and while close, you and the lord are slightly different in terms of how you carry physical weight and balance.”
“…?”
“You need a sword built for you, squire.”
She had found her new sword faster, and felt lighter in her hands. Especially compared to the rather large, heavy, flat blade that Lord Brighid was supposed to carry with her. She still carried the first sword on her back, but replaced her short sword with her new one. She remembered on one of the nights she had to assist Lord Brighid with moving Winston, she’d commented on how much better the sword had fit her. Correl had offered to return Lord Brighid’s blade, but was shut down.
Lord Brighid still had no need of a sword, apparently. And also felt more confident that Correl had the weapon. Correl could feel the annoyance start spreading through her skull once more at the thought. That woman could not care less about her own safety. Correl rolled her eyes, walking aimlessly throughout the castle halls. They eventually were stopped by some of the house servants, and enlisted to assist them with some chores.
Correl and Winston agreed, having no other choice but to bide their time until Lord Brighid could speak with Correl, which would not be happening until later tonight. She was preoccupied with some tasks involving Fort Hawke, and sending support. Correl’s task was moving some of the older, warmer covers and blankets in the house servant quarters to change them out for the colder seasons. Winston was given the duty to clean and dust.
They set about their tasks quietly, with the occasional hum coming from the servants overseeing them. Correl spoke up first, “Do… you like stories? Like the ones the knights tell in the mess hall?” she offered. She couldn’t stand the silence continuing on for much longer. When Winston nodded, Correl decided to tell him a story. Her story, at least what she’d been through so far.
She dialed down some of the boring traveling, and definitely amped up the night watches for creatures staying just out of sight. But what really piqued Winston’s interest was the fight at Fort Hawke. Correl had never really thought about it before but she was very good at descriptions. Trying to describe their attacker at Fort Hawke resulted in wide, bulging eyes and marked gasps from Winston, and from a few of the servants around feigning to pay them any attention.
“You defeated them all by yourself?” Winston squeaked, astonishment slowed his hands and left him standing still. Correl shook her head, “Not…not by myself, if Lord Brighid hadn’t been there I would definitely have died.” Winston rolled his eyes, abandoning his post dusting off walls to rush over to Correl and hit her playfully in the shoulder, “That’s called semantics! Are you sure you’re just a squire, Correl?” Correl just laughed in response.
Correl could hardly hear Winston murmuring over the sound of her own laughter, but caught him muttering the word, “Duhlmor” under his breathe. Maybe that could serve as as a temporary trophy for him until they returned from their next outing…
Winston’s mood had picked up significantly after, pretending to fight with the feather duster he had as a make-shift sword. Shaking dust around in his efforts to fight off some invisible monster. Even though the elder servants chewed him out for it, Correl just laughed along and helped clean up any additional messes.
The day was spent slowly enough, and this time, when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Correl and Winston went together to wait for Lord Brighid to appear from her study. Well, technically they usually “waited” together, but that was more Correl hoping Winston would fall asleep before Lord Brighid returned so she could get him into bed before the lord left her study… so decidedly different. They sat across from the door that marked Lord Brighid’s study.
Correl told Winston more stories as they sat down, some about her training at Caer Wren, which felt so long ago now, some about before that. Some of her stories talked of an orphaned child in a forest-y town, known for stealing food from open kitchens, who lived in a tree.
“Why didn’t you leave Otley before? After they… died?” Winston offered, his eyes struggling to stay awake in the darkened corridor.
“I didn’t really want to.” Correl responded with a halfhearted shrug, staring at the dark cedar door across from them. “I’d lived in that town with my parents so long, well just as long as without them, and I knew everyone there… As much as they hated what happened to me, they were willing to let me be.”She watched Winston nod along thoughtfully, slumping against the wall behind him.
“Well then why become a knight?” He asked, closing his eyes for a moment, Correl moved him so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. Correl thought about it, remembering the brilliant armor of a young knight of a large horse, and the cheers of her townsmen as the knight rescued a young girl nearly drowned by a beast. “I was rescued… by a Lord, a young knight at the time, when I’d gotten myself stuck in the nearby lake trying to steal a horse.”
Winston immediately tried to look up at her, eyes blinking wake himself up. “You were…wait, rescued by a knight?” He gasped, now standing on his knees to shake Correl back and forth, “Wait! Wait, was it this knight? Was Lord Brighid the one who-?!” Correl laughed taking the fake blows and shirking away from Winston’s hands, all the while trying to quiet him before he woke anyone up.
“Yes! Okay, Lord Brighid saved my life, years ago now.” Correl held Winston’s hands to stop his assault, “I figured becoming a knight was…I wanted to do something that would mean something…I guess.”
“Oh, Correl that is clandestine!” Winston whispered gleefully.
“You sound like Erika and the others now.” Correl playfully smacked him on the head.
The two continued their game of jabs for a few moments more before Winston relented, sliding back onto his behind. “Well maybe I should become a knight too then.” He harrumphed, earning a chuckle from Correl, “Yeah? Well there’s no greater place for you than Gauwynn for training. Especially since everyone already expects you to become one.”
Winston nodded, “Everyone always expects something out of me, whether its here…or in Caldune…”
“What do you mean?” Like the others, Correl had no idea who Winston was before he showed up from Caldune, and he’d never offered to talk about it. Until now, apparently.
“My father is…was Lord Petrel. My mother was Lady Tor…” Winston mused, ignoring the look of shock on Correl’s face, “Every knight and lady-in-waiting expected me to become something great. But that was before… everything else. When she, my mother died, my father lost all his sense, lost everything, and turned on everyone else in the castle. Paranoid and mad…” Winston let a dark chuckle escape, “It’s like he didn’t even recognize me.”
Correl wasn’t sure what to say, in the slightest. She started to try and comfort him but he refused it, “I’ve had months to adjust, Correl. I just… maybe becoming a knight will show me what I need to do? For Lord Petrel and the rest of Caldune.”
“Maybe it will. Whatever you feel you need to do, I’ll help you.” Correl was able to place a hand on his head, and they nearly fell back into silence. Until the dark cedar door began to open, dragging along the ground and pulling them from their thoughts.
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