Keiyn Trevelyan
First Impressions
“I don’t know why mother made you come with me. I don’t need a baby sitter.”
Though it was nice to have the company. Keiyn could hardly admit that to her brother, and would in fact rather be tossed back to Ostwick than tell him she was glad to spend time with him. Besides, without his guidance she would have already gotten herself hopelessly lost in the winding streets of Val Royeaux, unaccustomed as she was to navigating life outside of the circle’s tower.
“Only if it’s that dark haired templar you talk about, right?” Gilford teased, nudging her shoulder as they turned from the crowded market street towards the more open grounds of one of the many palaces.
Keiyn shot him as fierce a look she could manage, ending up only resembling a flustered nug. “Shut up Gil.”
He obliged for the time being, but Keiyn knew his silence would only last so long. It wasn’t a bother though, not in truth. When he talked it meant he was there and she was here with him. She would take the merciless taunting if it meant another breath of fresh air and time away from the ever watchful eyes of the templars.
So they walked in comfortable silence, Keiyn with her arms full of books to bring back home, Gil with the look of a man who had no where else in the world to be. The summer sun beat down on them, blazed into the platinum of Keiyn’s hair and she just knew it was burning the porcelain of her skin. Perhaps there was some shade along the cobbled streets they could retreat to.
“Hey, look, something’s going on over there.” Gil’s voice brought her attention away from scanning the passing buildings and awnings. He was pointing towards an open field some yards away, slightly depressed and surrounded by a series of elevated benches. The distinct clamor of sword fighting drifted by them on the breeze. “I think it’s some type of training.”
Gil steered her away from the city streets until they were standing at the top of the small depression and looking down at the handful of men below in full armor. Gilford explained to her that they were likely training for some upcoming tour of duty, learning to work together as a team and follow the orders of their captain. He went on to name many of the maneuvers they were testing out and how each would work in the heat of battle, but Keiyn had long since let his words become a dull hum in the background of her mind.
One solider in particular had caught her attention and she followed his movements with her eyes as he rushed across the training yard faster than she imagined a man of his size capable. She tugged at Gil’s arm and pointed towards him. “What is that man doing?”
“He’s showing them how to use the force behind a charge, I think. See how he doesn’t slow?”
Keiyn’s eyes were glued to the man as he did just what Gil said. He was rushing headlong towards one of the other soldiers with no regard for the sword already drawn and leveled at his chest, no fear for the death that waited if he misstepped.
“But he’s going to run straight into their sword!” Keiyn knew it was only practice; the swords weren’t deadly sharp and there was little real danger, and yet her breath caught in her throat as she fretted over the fate of the man who in her mind was already turning into a fearless and charming knight.
Gil shook his head and pointed towards the man who held his sword at the ready. “No, no, look. At the last minute he’ll move aside and miss the sword, but land a hit of his own.”
Again her brother was right. The big man spun on his heel at the point Keiyn thought he should have been run through by the other soldier’s sword. With a powerful swing of the shield on this arm he bashed into his opponent and sent him reeling to the ground. The brute strength of his attack paired with the elegance of his movements had Keiyn’s eyes wide, her heart thumping in her chest. “He does that in real battle? Just runs straight for someone’s sword like that?
That’s so brave.”“It’s just a tactic.” Gil shrugged, unaware of the infatuation that his sister was forming.
“Yeah but you wouldn’t do it.” Keiyn tore her eyes from the training long enough to throw a smirk at her brother; if he could tease her she could very well do it back. “Can we get closer?”
Gil agreed and they both started down the path towards the field. Keiyn stopped when she reached the last row of benches and pressed herself up against the waist tall wall that separated the spectators from the training soldiers. It didn’t take her long to find the man who had so fascinated her and from this close she could see just how comfortably he moved in his shining armor and the way the sun threw lengthy shadows of his body on the dirt.
“I bet he’s handsome under that helmet,” she breathed, her young mind filled with images of rebel chevaliers rescuing their true loves from the confines of damp prisons. Prisons just like the tower to which she must soon return.
“You read too many Orlesian books.” Gil caught up with her and scoffed. “He’s probably no different than the templars or mages you live with. He’s just a man.”
There was truth to his words, both in regards to her reading habits and to the solider, but Keiyn refused to acknowledge it. Instead she ignored him and went back to watching the training session, doing her best to store every image in her memory so she could watch it all again later.
Soon she felt her brother’s hand on her shoulder, turning her away. “Come on, we’ve got to get back before mother starts to think you’ve been dragged off to a circle again.”
On their way out of the maze of benches and stands Keiyn caught the attention of a solider passing by. She wasn’t about to leave without at least knowing the name of the man she was by now constructing complex day dreams about. When the young solider saw who she was pointing towards he smiled wearily, as if he had answered the question more times than he could count. “That’s Captain Rainier. One of the best men we’ve got, you’d do well to remember his name.”
By the time Keiyn returned from her brief stint of freedom and was safely locked back into her room in Ostwick she had forgotten all about the brave Orlesian Captain. The name Rainier never once crossed her mind until many years later when she stood staring up at the man she thought she loved awaiting the hangman’s noose.
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