It had been a day like any other up to the point I had my fateful meeting—I got up early, took a trip through the nearby forest to pick some fresh herbs and flowers for the apothecary and then made my way there—but when I noticed an older man struggling to walk across the town square, wincing with every step as a trickle of blood kept dropping to the floor behind him, I felt it necessary to intervene. Perhaps I thought I could gain a customer for the apothecary that way or something like that, I do not recall anymore. Oh, the old man was stubborn, insisting that he did not need the help, but if there was one thing my master had taught me, it was how to gently, yet firmly, insist on something. It did not take long for me to get him to acquiesce and sit down on a nearby bench, and a quick examination revealed some cuts and scrapes on his foot that I quickly patch up with some bits and pieces from the kit I keep on me at all times.

While it wouldn't be an outright cure, it would help with the walking pains and prevent infection, and I recommended him to visit the apothecary with me to pick up some additional things that would aid the healing process, and just some things that are good to have in general. To my surprise, he actually followed along with me, but when we did arrive at the building, he did not just pick up a few supplies. No, he would ask my master to release me from his service and allow me to serve as a squire. It was only then that I learned that this old man was the patriarch of the de Civille clan, the local noble family, and so my master was no longer so, telling me that serving the de Civilles was a far better lot in life.

From then on, it did not take long before I was at the de Civille estate, a lovely villa in the center of town, meeting the old man's son, Jules, and in fact already being introduced as his new squire. "Ah, I thank thee, Father! Verily, what good doth a knight be without a squire by his side? Trust mine words, valiant Rene, we shall become the greatest duo this realm hath seen!" he exclaimed, a warm, very happy expression on his face. It was only during a later moment where I got to be alone with his father that I learned that Jules's way of speaking was an odd affectation of his that nobody could truly explain, and where he explained my task. I was to accompany Jules on his adventures and his search for renown. Above all, I was to do one thing: keep him safe, at all costs.

The sun had barely reached its apex when Jules and I set off, him clad in armor and wielding a heavy mace, me armed with a dagger his father gave me and my apothecary's kit. It was still a mystery to me how I was to be helpful to him, though I would soon learn the answer to that. We had barely reached the outskirts of town when we passed by a bard, telling tales of a grisly, mythical creature terrorizing the snowy north. Apparently, this was enough to light a fire within Jules, and I had to physically restrain him from rushing up to the bard and demanding all the details so that he may slay this creature in the name of chivalry, explaining that this creature was most likely a fabrication, and even if it was real, surely there were local heroes in the north that would deal with it. Surprisingly enough, that worked, and he eventually settled on some more approachable targets.

"So, what did you say we were after again?" I asked him while we made our way through the forest. Jules had a way about him of springing into action that necessitated me to try and catch up with him, and I would eventually have to reign him in some more and get myself involved in these decisions.

With a spring in his step, he turned to face me and replied, "Hunting vile scoundrels, of course! The most honorable of tasks for knights. There hath been tales of interlopers hiding in these forests, seeking out and robbing innocent townsfolk, and we art to put an end to this villainy!"

But the moment he spoke those words, we were ambushed by what were probably those very brigands he was talking about, with three men jumping out of the brush and one striking Jules on the back of the head, causing him to crumple to the ground—Jules eschewed wearing a helmet for reasons only he could truly explain—and me to try and brandish my dagger, fumbling and dropping it. I was gripped with terror, wondering if this would be the end of my short life as a squire. "Some pretty good armor for a chump like that, and a real shiny mace, too, that'll probably sell for a bunch of cash," one of the bandits said, already appraising their ill-gotten gains.

"What about the other runt here? We just kill him and take whatever we can?" another asked, and the third nodded, so with the unconscious Jules considered to be out of the picture, they turned to approaching me, who was still scared stiff. If only I had a small window of opportunity to run, to try and hide, I could have taken it. What I did not expect was an armored hand gripping one of the brigand's legs, pulling him back and sending him falling to the ground and taking up his comrades' attention. In a remarkable moment of self-preservation, I managed to bolt away, hiding behind some trees and cursing myself for leaving Jules to die. Surely, it was my task as a squire to help him in this situation.

What followed was something I could only hear, as I dared not look, and the first thing I heard was Jules's voice ringing out through the forest, yelling, "Vile curs! How dishonorable art thou, that thou fight with more men, sneak up like vermin, and then even threaten mine squire? Have at thee!" This was followed by the sounds of struggle, weapons and armor clanging together, yells and screams of pain and adrenaline, and eventually the unmistakable thumps of bodies falling to the ground. Before I could even process most of it, it seemed over. When I allowed myself to come out from my hiding spot, I bore witness to a grisly scene. The three brigands that seemed so imposing and dangerous were now dispatched, all three of them motionless on the ground, blood seeping into the dirt and one of them having their face completely smashed to bits. The only one left standing was Jules, but he too looked more like a corpse, with blood splattered all over his face and bits of brigand still on his mace. But the worst part was his off-hand, which suffered a cut so severe it seemed like it might fall off without immediate tending. And yet, he had that chipper smile on his face when he saw me. "Ah, mine lovely squire! How fortuitous to see thee unharmed. Truly, the divine light hath blessed us this day!" he exclaimed while I rushed to his side.

"Ah, crap, we... we need to tend to this immediately! This, this is horrible!" I stammered, digging through my apothecary kit for something to help, but he just waved me off.

"Thou needest not worry, 'tis but a scratch. I will merely require a bit of water from this nearby creek," he told me and walked off, leaving me standing there completely dumbstruck. But then, my mind turned to the brigands, wondering what it truly meant to "keep him safe at all costs". I wondered if they would try to get revenge on us if one of them ended up surviving, and whether we could afford to take that risk. And while I located my dagger, picking it up and holding it in my hand, the words only now began to sink in. One of them was still breathing. That was something I learned to spot in my training, but there, it was to try and locate people still living and administering first aid to them.

Allow me, at this point, to abridge the few following minutes for the sake of the reader. Suffice it to say that I took my first life that day, having to silence all doubts in my mind as I knelt over his body, as well as silencing his weak, sputtered pleas for mercy. I determined that we could not take the risk, if I was to protect Jules at all costs, and I could only pray to the heavens above that I would be forgiven. After that, I left the three bodies—now all confirmed to be dead—as I could no longer endure their presence, and sought out Jules, who was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree and resting, where I joined him. To my great surprise, while he still looked horrible and bloodied, the severe wound on his hand now seemed far more healed than a mere few minutes ago. Had I imagined it? He gave me little opportunity to think, turning to face me with that same content smile. "Hast thou basked in the glories of victory before? They art truly wonderful," he tells me before, in a bizarre gesture, swiping some blood off his face and painting a streak across my forehead, then laughing at me wincing. "This be what serving the townsfolk feels like! And I couldst not have done with without mine wonderful squire."

Finally, as if to cap this strange scene off, he kissed me. Not a mere peck, like a mother and child might share, no, this was a lover's kiss, deep and intimate, the taste of blood dominant in my mouth. This was the first day of being in the employ of Sir Jules de Civille, and I could not have imagined what the following days were to bring.