Read The Long War 01 - The Black Guard for Free Online Page B

Torian inspected himself carefully, noting any slight imperfections in his armour and pointing them out to his squire for later attention.
    ‘And who are the Kirin, master?’ Randall asked.
    He’d known men claim to be Kirin and heard men referred to as such, but he’d always been confused by what the term meant. They were often swarthy-skinned men, though clearly not either Karesian or Ro and, by implication at least, they were mostly criminals.
    Torian raised his eyebrows at this. ‘You have no Kirin in the Darkwald?’
    ‘Not that I remember, no. A few Ranen, but mostly men of Ro.’
    ‘Well, the Kirin are the godless race that is produced when a Karesian and a Ro decide, for whatever reason, to mate.’ He clearly took offence at the notion. ‘They are mostly to be found in the forests along the southern shore of the Kirin Ridge, though some come to the Tor Funweir to ply their trade as slavers or rainbow merchants – that’s drug dealers to you and me.’ He picked up his purple tabard from the side of the bed and swung it over his head, letting the purple sceptre of nobility rest across his breastplate. ‘They’re not innately evil, but their mixed lineage makes it difficult for them to pursue an honest trade.’
    Sir Leon had been quite hateful towards the Kirin, calling them all manner of names. Randall now thought this a little unfair, as it wasn’t really their fault that their parents had decided to have sex.
    Randall walked over to the windowsill and took a drink of water from the jug that was placed there. He had known that the Darkwald was an isolated area of Tor Funweir, but the sudden realization that Sir Leon had taught him virtually nothing in the time they’d been together was annoying. He’d learned more about the lands of men in the last few days than in the previous three years combined.
    ‘Today, young Randall, I’m afraid your reading will have to wait. I need you to accompany me into the city.’ Torian pointed to the sword of Great Claw hanging from a hook on the back of the door. ‘You should wear your sword, boy…’
    Randall let thoughts of Sir Leon and how poor a master he had been leave his mind. He screwed up his face, having barely been listening to his new master’s words. ‘Sorry, I was somewhere else for a moment. What did you say?’ he asked.
    Torian smiled as he spoke. ‘Sometimes I envy the ability of youth to daydream. However, as a cleric I must chide you for your insolence,’ he said warmly. ‘I told you that you would be accompanying me into the city and that you should wear your longsword.’
    Randall blushed, still uncomfortable owning such a weapon.
    Torian sensed his misgiving and, with a condescending smile, moved to the door and picked up the scabbard. ‘Come here, lad. Let’s see how it looks.’
    Randall stood in front of him and was taken aback as the cleric reached down and wrapped the belt around his squire’s waist.
    ‘Master…’ Randall stuttered as he spoke. ‘I should do that.’
    Torian’s smile became friendly as he positioned the scabbard on Randall’s left hip. ‘I gave you permission to wear it, so it seems fitting that I adorn you with it.’ He stepped back and inspected the armed squire. ‘There. Now all you need is armour and you’ll look splendid.’
    Randall breathed in and looked at the sword hilt. It was surprisingly light and didn’t restrict his movement in the way he’d imagined it would. Despite his reservations, he felt older and stronger simply carrying such a noble weapon. The sword of Great Claw had been Sir Leon’s pride and joy, and Randall wanted more than anything to do honour to the blade.
    ‘Did Sir Leon at least teach you the correct way to hold such a weapon, Randall?’
    ‘Well… not really, master. He showed me some basic positions, but he was drunk at the time and they didn’t make much sense.’
    ‘Hopefully, you won’t need to use it then,’ he said plainly, as he moved to his purple cloak