The sort of parallel fic to It'll Get Better by @captmickey, detailing the events that happened within Brotherhood.
Warnings for alcoholics and more detailed descriptions of minor...violence? I don't know what to call it.
-=+=-
Sometimes Ken questioned why he took up squireship in the first place - and why he continued to return day after day.
Sir Rupert was probably just bad luck when it came to knights who were taking in squires, Ken knew that was a possibility. Unfortunately, Ken came to that conclusion a bit too late. Ignoring his questions was normal - he was used to people not wanting to answer. However, with the lack of any action taken, the complaints about Ken's mumbling, the insistence that Ken only do simple chores to 'teach him about the knighthood', Ken saw through it all.
The only reasons he never looked for another knight were his doubts, those worries that other knights would be the same - or an even worse experience.
That, and another reason. One he felt terrible thinking about.
He shook those thoughts away. No need to worry if he can't deal with them right now. He had a job to do.
Ken lifted the flap of the knight's tent, coughing from the dust he swore he had cleaned up yesterday, only to find that the tent was barren. The lantern had been recently snuffed out, and attached to it was a note.
Heading out to town. DON'T come looking. - Rupe
Well, Ken wasn't known for disobeying instructions. In fact, he knew very well he could take this as a day off and go on without any repercussions. However, he was also known for being too investigative for his own good - and this sounded far too suspicious not to look into.
Thankfully, Sir Rupert had left the general location on the note. A bit of a witless move, especially if he didn't want Ken coming to find him.
Even if the destination had been narrowed down to just the town, the place was still sizable, with numerous buildings. Ken asked around, inquiring if they had seen any knights wandering town. Most shook their heads, or simply ignored him entirely, but one rose at the question.
"Most of the knights like to settle at the local Oh What A Knight Tavern in the evenings," One lady said, "I think they renamed it that recently due to the spike in popularity. That there might be your best bet."
Ken's face lit up - finally, a lead. "Thank you, miss." He hastily waved goodbye, then sped down the winding road towards the tavern. He kicked himself a little for not considering it earlier, of course someone like Sir Rupert was spending his time on entertainment while supposedly 'on the job.'
He opened the door to a building bustling with armor-clad patrons - drinking themselves to death, some dancing on tables, others drooling on the floor. He stepped over one customer who had become the unfortunate tipsy doormat to the establishment. Ken kept himself straightened, holding himself high and focused despite how uneasy the place made him.
Across the room was a crowd of knights, chanting and pounding their fists. Keeping a safe distance away, Ken peeked through to see what the fuss was about.
In the middle of the circle was just who Ken came to see, doing exactly what he didn't want to witness. Rupert was lying on the bar counter, one leg sprawled lengthwise and the other crossed over and propped on his heel. He was chugging what looked to be his fourth ale, as evident by the upturned tankards across the floor. With armor dulled from alcohol staining and helmet being used for… purposes other than the ones intended, seeing a knight do something so heinous made Ken want to hurl.
Ken tapped one of the tipplers on the pauldron. They barely turned around, only waving him away. Ken moved to another patron, asking if they could inch a little so he could pass through. Again, they barely budged.
From a gap in the crowd, Rupert whipped his head in Ken's direction, wild-eyed and on a mission. "Move aside, scumbags! I think there's a twig here that I gotta snap in half…"
The crowd of people parted for Rupert, who stood on the counter so he towered over everybody else in the establishment. Rupert stepped on Ken's hand, pinning it down with a rusted metal boot so it hurt to struggle. Rupert leaned on his knee. He gestured for the rest of the crowd to come closer.
"Look who's decided to show up!" Rupert's words slurred together at the ends. He grabbed Ken's upper lip, metal gloves like prongs gripping his face. "Didn'tcha read my note?" Rupert turned back to the crowd. "Either the bookworm's blind, or he's got poor reading completion!"
"It's comprehension," Ken muttered. Rupert, drunken fire in his eyes, dug his boot deeper into Ken's skin - To teach him a lesson, presumably, but all Ken learned was that he regretted doing all that shoe sharpening.
Rupert let go of Ken's lip, making Ken snap back like elastic. When he got his bearings, Ken crossed his arms, "I'm here wondering why you're out at the pub instead of out helping people."
Rupert scoffed, "Why should I? Why not anybody else here?"
"It's your job," Ken resisted lashing out at them. "And with the amount of knights not doing their jobs, the kingdom will fall to ruffians and thieves. So I recommend you get back to work before your homes are ransacked."
Silence. Ken smirked - he had left them stunned, unable to speak. Maybe he had taught them a lesson, maybe he had made an impact.
That was until the room erupted into laughter.
Rupert roared over the crowd. "Everybody, I think the 'boss' wants to crash the party! Before it's even begun! What do we say to that?"
The knights booed Ken. Rupert turned to the other knights, raising his tankard so quickly that it spilled all over Ken, standing stiff like a wet dog. Slack-jawed, Ken tried to speak up over the hollering. Instead, all he got were knights swarming, taking turns to jab at him.
"You don't got enough strength to be our boss!" Said one, flexing an arm in his face.
Another spat at his clothes. "Tell me what law that one falls under!"
That was it, that was all it took to break Ken's polite mask. "If this is all the knighthood is - the insults, the buffoonery, the laziness - then I don't want to work under some… some muttonhead like you!" He threw his hands into the air, spouting out the biggest thought in his mind, "I quit! I quit being your squire! Now you'll have to shine your weaponry all by yourself."
Rupert sat down on a barstool, still towering over Ken, and said, "It's not that hard to find another poor schmuck who needs the 'experience.' Besides, maybe they'll know when to shut their mouth." Rupert flicked Ken on the nose. The rest of the knights laughed in agreement.
Soaking wet, fuming, and full of a newfound hatred to the knighthood, Ken stormed out of the Oh What A Knight Tavern. What knights they were, Ken thought.
He knelt down on the grassy road, sandwiched between a tree and the riverbank. He splashed his face - one, two, three, four times - then slumped onto the tree behind him.
Who knew that knights were so… unbearable? He thought that maybe it was just his luck, or a lack of it, that led him to working under the worst knight imaginable. Now he knew that it wasn't just Rupert. Good riddance, he supposed.
Then, the horrid thought hit him. The one he didn't want to think about, yet the thought always weaseled its way into his mind.
…What would his parents think? What would his father think? The squireship was so important to his future, his career. It was all supposed to be good for him - and he gave it all up for such a stupid reason.
He wasn't ready for the humiliation. He was too scared to head home.
He curled up there, hidden behind a tree, hugging his knees. He held himself, held his breath. His eyes burned. He was choking up and he hated it. Useless tears, not even for a good reason. A good knight wouldn't show weakness - they would stand strong, stand tall for the kingdom. (Was there even such a thing as a good knight? He couldn't tell anymore.)
Ken stayed there and cried until the sun, and any of his remaining hope, had left him, for a question lingered in his mind - Where could he go from here?
"I spent a year as a squire to one knight in particular but it just… I couldn’t stand him, if I’m being perfectly honest. He was rather brutish, the way he handled doing his job was less for his… his morality and more for the ah, benefits.”
"A guard was nice, but a knight… that had weight to it, it had the right amount of force to make a difference. So I also was a squire for a knight... though he wasn’t as boorish as your’s was. He was apathetic, lazy… never had an answer for my questions.”
-+-
I'm going to take any character design opportunity I can!!!! And this? This was perfect~
These two in the middle are the knights No1 and No2 were squires for! I was particularly inspired by this lovely fic, however these two (and the descriptions above) come from Brotherhood! Both made by @captmickey
I am going to... throw these two so far into the sun.
