It wasn't strange for Beltayne to ride a moose. But what was strange was having one materialize before his eyes from nothing. He was told it was Wylde magik—but summoning an animal from thin air was something only the Queen of Falling Snow was able to do. At least, he'd never seen anyone other than his god conjure a spirit beast. Yet here he was. Atop his translucent moose he rode. No saddle, no accompanying soreness, and no bridle. It paced itself, following behind the others—who were atop their own spirit mounts.
Beltayne grinned while his moose galloped along. The steady pounding of its hooves was the musical theme for their long journey. It was soothing for him. For some reason. Maybe it was because he'd always wanted a moose.
"Wait," he said. "Did my mount become a moose because it's what I've always wanted?" He looked ahead to the druid. He led the pack of spirit animals with his own chariot—except his was pulled by what seemed like hundreds of real woodland animals. Foxes, rabbits, bears, squirrels, even a horse or two.
The druid looked over his shoulder and smiled. "It must be!" he shouted. "I didn't know there were people fond of those creatures. They are finicky and kinda mean sometimes."
Beltayne scoffed. "Mean? No! Moose have always been the mounts of all Wardens of the Winter Court!"
"Are they really?" Surprise colored the druid's voice. He shrugged, turning his attention back to the forest path.
"Why did they choose the moose?"
Beltayne himself was surprised to hear Winter's Bite chime in. He'd been silent for the first half of their journey back to Ridgeton. "It's just how it is! Since I was a child, I had heard stories of the great Wardens of the Ice and their armored moose mounts. They towered over everything on the battlefield—they were fearsome."
"Hmmm," mused the sword. "So... when one is knighted they become one of these wardens?"
"Oh, very much so, yes," said Beltayne. He was excited. Bite never showed interest in anything, let alone something relating to Beltayne. "It's the most revered position in—"
"Yes, yes... the most revered position in the entire Winter Court. You've only mentioned it more times than I can fathom."
Beltayne sighed and dropped his head. He wished the sword would—
An even heavier sigh than Beltayne produced came from the scabbard at his left hip. "Alright, Bel... you may go ahead."
"Well, since you asked!" Beltayne said. He noticed Small-Ears drop back from the group a bit, coming within earshot of him and Bite. Kel'dhos had never heard Beltayne go into detail of his quest. "The Sojourn of the Winter Court—the sacred passage from squire to warden. We are trained martially from a very young age, where we learn the way of the sword and various wylde magik channeling techniques."
"Mhmm," said Bite. "You've made me plenty cold with those..."
"I always ask for permission first! Besides, we make a fantastic team, Bite!" He put his hand on the sword's hilt. "As I was saying, once we complete our training, it is merely the beginning. We are told we must complete the Sojourn in order to be knighted and become a Warden of the Winter Court."
Both Magnus and Kel'dhos fell in beside him now, their spirit animals galloping alongside his. Beltayne wasn't shocked that his two followers would be interested. It is a legendary tale. One that all will know of one day. Beltayne, Warden of the Winter Court, Defender of the Winter Queen, vanquishing foes of the weak.
"And..." said Bite in his usual tone.
"Ah, yes," Beltayne continued. "The Sojourn. It is a challenging quest that each squire must undertake and complete. We must prove ourselves worthy to feel the broad edge of a blade on each shoulder."
Kel'dhos cocked his head. "How do you become worthy?"
"How am I supposed to know? I've never done this before."
Kel'dhos and Magnus stared, blank looks on their faces.
"Ahem," interjected Beltayne's blade. "Please elaborate for us, Bel..."
He shrugged. "We aren't given much instruction, Bite. Once we've mastered our blades and abilities, we begin the Sojourn. We take our first steps out of the city and off we go. We must prove ourselves. I imagine it is by displaying incredible feats of strength, or unmatched wits when encountering others, or acts of kindness."
"I guess that seems reasonable," said Kel'dhos with an agreeing nod.
Magnus rubbed his bearded face. "And how do you know when you've completed your Sojourn?"
"Oh, this I do know. The Icy Queen will appear before me and lavish me with praise. Then I will return home and take my place among the wardens at the Winter Court. Once I finish this quest with these slavers, I just know she'll appear."
Kel'dhos and Magnus nodded, and Bite hummed softly. It was quiet as the group traversed the thick forest, though the trees and thicket seemed to part for the druid, as if they were peasants parting for royalty. Strange it was. His moose hurried along and Beltayne swayed back and forth while he pondered.
Am I doing enough? Beltayne thought. Will my Snow Queen be proud?
"Bel. I've been giving this Sojourn matter some thought."
He looked down at his scabbard. What in the Sea of Obsidian Ice could his sword have to ponder? He was used to the blade throwing insult after insult, but now he's pondering? What has this forsaken world come to?
"This journey from squire to knighthood..." There was a pause. Beltayne tapped the hilt impatiently. "Don't do that—Back to my thoughts. Your people send you out on this Sojourn and you don't know what you're supposed to do?"
Beltayne nodded. His sword thrummed in thought. A few more minutes passed.
"Has it ever occurred to you that it might not be about what you have to accomplish?"
"Speak plainly, Bite. I am not here for games," Beltayne said. He hated when the blade did this. Stupid sword always belittling him. He would not fall for it. Though... Beltayne was intrigued at the comment. His people never did tell him what he was supposed to do. That much had always been evident to him. It was well-known throughout the Winter Court.
"I believe it is part of this Sojourn, Bel." Bite kept pulsing in his scabbard. "It was never about completing a specific task. Saving nobles, slaying ogres, rescuing towns from bandits... all good, yes, but not the point of the journey."
What? How could those not be important? They were inherently acts of heroism that inspired kingdoms and earned squires their Warden Swords. "Blasphemy, Bite. None of what you said makes any sense. Good deeds will prove me worthy."
If the sword had a tongue, he'd be clicking it. Or at least that's the sound Beltayne thought the sword made. Why was he letting Bite's words get to him so much? Could the blade be right?
"Beltayne, you really can be dim-witted," said the sword. "Stop thinking so simply and use that brain of yours..."
Was his Sojourn not about saving people? Was he not meant to accomplish great deeds and slay evil monsters? He was meant to be a hero. To be revered among the lands and return home to become a Warden of the Winter Court. He'd already come so far—his chance encounter with his new followers in that godsforsaken cave, his triumph over the tree beast, then onto slaves and their captors, that damned she-elf, Rythela, and much much more. Yet... his Queen had not yet come. He glanced down at Bite's hilt. Resting a hand on it, Beltayne felt the blade stirring, pulsing.
"Alright," Beltayne said. "What is the point of the Sojourn?"
"Mmm," returned the sword. "I think that is for you to decide. Is it not?"
"Why, yes it is, I suppose."
"Then what do you think makes a knight?"
"Protecting the innocent or sacrificing yourself to save another," Beltayne said proudly. It was an easy answer. An obvious one.
Bite scoffed. "No." His humming intensified. "No good knight ever sacrificed themselves."
"Not even to save—"
"No, nitwit. Call it personal experience... don't do it."
"Ohhh," Beltayne said, rubbing his chin. "I'm sorry for your previous wielder's fate, Bite. I did not know."
"What? No... that's..." the blade sighed. "Back on task, Bel. A good deed doesn't forge a knight."
Bite was spouting nonsense. How could good deeds not make a knight? That was all Beltayne had ever heard growing up. Every squire who'd returned from their Sojourn had their accomplishments sung near and wide. They were doted on by townsfolk and the nobles of the Winter Court. All for their deeds.
"I just do not agree," Beltayne said. "It is part of the Sojourn. One must prove themselves worthy. And to do that, one must show their worth through acts of service and achievements."
Bite was silent for a minute, thrumming all the while. Beltayne knew the blade was wrong. He was told to go out and do great things and return a knight. Was Bite saying the entire Winter Court was wrong? Small-Ears and the hat-less wizard were just ahead of Beltayne, chattering about their silly gods and pointless magic academies. Didn't they know his plight was far worse than their frivolous nonsense? A booming laugh from the beefy Magnar, swinging his hammer at imaginary foes, startled Beltayne. No one even cares about my struggles. He sighed and decided to continue speaking with the snide sword of his.
"So..." Beltayne said, awkwardly patting the sword. "Do you have anything to say to that?"
"Are you truly going to listen and heed my advice?"
Beltayne was curious to hear Bite's stance on knighthood and the Sojourn. Hearing someone's opinion on matters they did not know of amused Beltayne. Though, he himself was guilty of that after discovering the vast world beyond the Cristolach Mountains. It was... a humbling experience to say the least. What harm could come of listening to Bite ramble on about Beltayne's customs and people?
"Yes," he acknowledged. "I am ready, Bite." Did he just clear his throat? Does he even have a throat?
"I believe this Sojourn your people endeavor is much more than just doing the right thing," said the sword. "I have been around an unbelievably long time. I've traveled these lands, seen many peoples and been to places you have not yet dreamt of... and I can tell you with certainty that a knight is not made by the deeds he does."
"That can't be right," Beltayne said. "Are you that old? How many namedays have you had?" His scabbard vibrated intensely—so much so that it felt like it was about to free itself from his hip. "My apologies, Bite! 'Twas a jest!"
"All I am saying, Bel," the blade said, his voice growing stern. "Learn from me. Forge your own path. A knight is much more than the weapon he wields."
Beltayne chewed on those last few words. All his life he'd been raised at the tip of a sword. Sparring with Armsman Sigarsyan. Learning technique after technique. Countless hours spent dancing with Sister Iseldian. Spinning and jumping. It all came together into a seamless battle form.
Every. Single. Day. He worked to become a master of battle. To make his blade become one with his body. And he did—or so he thought. Until he squared off against Blacktide. That was it!
"Blacktide!" shouted Beltayne.
"What?" asked Bite.
"I'm not ready to be a knight because I failed in my duel with Blacktide! I will be ready to defeat him when I return to Ridgeton. I will storm his keep and announce my intent to duel. He cannot refuse. And when I defeat him... my Winter Queen will appear and dub me Ser Beltayne, Warden of the Winter Court."
"Incredible..." said Bite.
Beltayne held his head high, chin pointed to the sky, eyes closed in pride, a determined grin upon his perfect face. "I know, I know—"
"Dolt! Have you listened to anything I've said?"
Beltayne lowered his head, glancing at his scabbard. He just didn't understand. "Why would my elders lead me astray? Why would they train me... not just me, everyone... in martial combat if it meant nothing?"
Bite clicked his tongue again, like a disappointed father would to his troublemaking son. "I guess I will lay it out plainly for you. Being a knight is not about how you wield the sword. Anyone can learn the intricacies of a blade. Simple, smart, young, old. Just because you train under the tutelage of master swordsmen of the winter realm does not make you a knight."
Beltayne wanted to retort. He wanted to spit a smart comeback like he usually did when someone insulted his homeland, but... he was truly interested in what his sword had to say.
"Self-discovery, Beltayne," Bite said, thrumming all the while. "Who you discover yourself to be over the course of your Sojourn is what makes a knight. A murderer can save a damsel in distress, or rescue a child from harm, but that does not make him a knight, does it? You cannot do these deeds with becoming a knight as the goal. You have to want to save people, to sacrifice, to help others because of who you are, not what you want to become."
Beltayne thought on those words. "Self-discovery... So... I must find who I am supposed to be?"
"Exactly," said Bite. "We know what you want to be. But a knight isn't only a 'what' someone is. It's a 'who' someone is." He buzzed more strongly within his scabbard. "Who are you, Beltayne?"
"Silly blade. I am Beltayne, Squire of the—"
"Wrong. Try again."
Beltayne sat there atop his spirit moose, which showed no signs of slowing. Kel'dhos laughed a few feet ahead of him, Magnus as well. The two were enjoying some sort of stupid jest, no doubt. Birds rustled from a nearby tree and chirped excitedly while they soared high into the air.
Who was he? Beltayne did not really know. He'd never thought about who he was. Only what he wanted to be. A Knight of the Winter Court. The epitome of chivalry among the snow-elves. The ultimate warrior and protector. Deep inside himself, Beltayne knew he was none of those things. He wasn't a great warrior, despite his years of training. He was formidable, no doubt. But great? Not likely. He'd been bested by many creatures and fighters.
"I can see the fire stoking within that skull of yours," said Bite. "Now answer me this. Beneath that idiotic facade of Beltayne the Squire... Who are you?"
It was true. He carried himself confidently, yet he was no more confident than a goblin trapped by a pack of wolves. He tried to act like a knight would, or at least he acted like what he thought a knight would. In all his time in the Winter Court, he'd only met two knights. And they were treated like royalty. Doted upon by everyone. Catered to like a king. But that wasn't knightly at all. They didn't ask for that.
"I am an idiot," Beltayne said. He actually laughed at the words. Relief? "Bite, I am an idiot!"
"Well... that's not what—" The sword was cut off as Beltayne interrupted, continuing his thoughts.
"I've been pretending to be something I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "I always thought a knight should behave a certain way. When in fact, I just needed to be myself." Beltayne put a hand on Bite's hilt. "Thank you, my friend. I am Beltayne. Young and naive. But I am a good-hearted person. One who means well and would do anything to protect my friends and innocents of Eridan. That is who I am."
"And that is enough, Beltayne. That is all a knight needs to be."
Beltayne smiled. And for the first time in his life, he knew who he was. And he was content. He'd spent his entire life chasing knighthood when it had been within him this entire time. He was destined to be a great knight, and he was going to be one of the best heroes that Eridan ever knew.
"Bite," he said.
"Mmm?"
"You and I are going to do great things in this world."
The blade thrummed at that. Beltayne fell silent for the rest of the trip, pondering his life and what was to come. He never stopped smiling. He couldn't. Joy filled him knowing deep within, he was already knightly. And no one could take that away from him.