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There weren’t many things that Will had learned about Rangers so far. But what little he knew had come from Mary, his caretaker.
They were a rather dangerous group of people, or so it had seemed to Will. He had seen one of them only a handful of times, crossing the courtyard towards the Baron’s tower. It was like watching a shadow dart through daylight – there one moment, gone the next. When he was five, he had told the other wards about it, convinced he’d seen a ghost.
The others had laughed. They never saw anything, no matter how insistently he pointed to the now empty air.
That night, as Mary tucked him into bed, he decided to ask.
“Mary,” he began tentatively, “what do Rangers do?”
Mary was a strict-faced, no-nonsense woman who always seemed to be running on duty. She made sure the wards were fed, clothed, and disciplined, but affection wasn’t her strong suit. Will had learned early on not to expect hugs or soothing pats on the back.
She paused from tucking the blanket under his chin, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Rangers keep the kingdom safe.” she said after a moment, her voice matter-of-fact.
“How?”
She hesitated again, this time smoothing a non-existent wrinkle in the blanket. Her eyes took on a more distant look. “They have their ways,” she said, her voice quieter. “They see everything. They hear everything. No one can hide from them. If someone breaks the law or threatens the kingdom ...” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced towards the candlelight as if trying to decide how much to say.
Will pushed himself up from the bed. “What happens to them?”
Mary looked back at him; her face unusually grim. “They meet a Ranger.”
There was a long silence, thick and heavy in the air. Then she added, almost absently, “And after that ... no one hears from them again.”
Will felt his chest tighten. “Why?” he whispered, voice barely audible.
Mary shook her head as though clearing away clouds in her mind. She gave him a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Be a good boy, Will.” she said while pushing him back down and tucking the blanket snugly around him. “Good boys don’t have to worry about Rangers.”
With that, she leaned over to blow out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. The shadows seemed to press in around him, and her parting words lingered in the air like an unfinished story.
“Good night, Will,” she said softly before shutting the door with a faint click.
Will lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the echoes of her words played over and over in his mind. He thought of shadows flitting across the courtyard, of whispers in the dark corners of the castle.
It was a long time before he fell asleep that night.
By morning, Will had managed to convince himself there was nothing to fear from the Rangers—so long as he behaved and followed the rules. It was a comforting thought, one that allowed him to set aside the unease Mary’s words had left behind.
The next day dawned crisp and golden, the early spring sun casting its warm light over the keep. Mary had decided it was too nice a day to stay indoors and had shepherded the wards out into the courtyard for breakfast. They sat on long benches under the open sky, their bowls of porridge steaming in the cool morning air.
The other children chattered excitedly as they ate, their voices a lively hum of anticipation. Plans for the day’s games unfolded around Will: daring races through the fields, imaginary battles against invisible foes, and climbing contests in the old orchard.
Will listened with half an ear, poking at his porridge with his spoon. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him again—the Ranger.
He was crossing the courtyard, moving with the same quiet purpose Will had noticed before. The man seemed to glide more than walk, his cloak shifting like a shadow against the bright morning stone. Will’s stomach tightened.
He tried to follow the Ranger’s movements, keeping his eyes fixed on him from the moment he appeared until he reached the Baron’s tower. It wasn’t easy. The man seemed to blur into the background when others passed in front of him, his figure vanishing and reappearing as though he were slipping between moments. At one point, Will lost sight of him entirely against the grey of the castle walls, only to catch him again just as he reached the tower door.
Then the Ranger paused.
For a brief moment, he turned his head, the hood concealing his face save for the faintest glint of light catching on shadowed features. Will froze. He was almost certain the man was looking at him.
His heart thudded in his chest, and he quickly dropped his gaze to his bowl. The porridge had gone cold, but he hardly noticed. His appetite vanished as fear coiled in his stomach.
After a long moment, he dared to glance up again. The Ranger was gone.
Will sat very still, his hands clutching the edge of the bench. The others had moved on to excitedly arguing about whose idea of the day’s game was best. But Will’s thoughts were elsewhere, his eyes lingering on the tower door.
The moment passed, but the unease lingered. Will reminded himself, that all he had to do was behave.
TIME SKIP
Choosing day had snuck up on Will faster than he dared to admit. He had spent weeks both agonizing over it and trying not to think about it at all.
For the others the path seemed clear and Will envied such certainty.
Will, however, clung to a dream – a fragile shield against brutal reality. He wanted to go to Battleschool, to follow in the footsteps of the father he’d never known. Whose sacrifice had made Will an orphan. That dream gave him purpose, gave him something to say when asked. But deep down, he knew it was hopeless.
He was too small. No matter how fiercely he wanted it, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he wasn’t built for a warrior’s life. Especially not compared to Horace, who stood a full head taller and was already as broad as some of the younger knights.
Still, Will had resolved to stay until Choosing Day. He owed Baron Arald that much, at least. The Baron who had provided for him, ensured he was fed, clothed, and cared for. Will would endure the humiliation of rejection, if only for the chance to offer his thanks before leaving.
Leaving. The thought was a stone in his stomach. There was no shame in becoming a farmer, he told himself, but the idea filled him with dread. It would feel too much like a betrayal of his father’s memory.
Be a good boy, Will. Mary’s long-ago words whispered through his mind, a bitter echo that paired far too well with his churning stomach.
Horace’s smug voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Still planning on Battleschool, Will? Best eat some more, might need to grow a few inches between now and noon!”
The boy snorted with laughter over his own bowl of porridge as Will refused to answer, his hands clenching into fists below the table. The other boy was right after all, they all knew it.
While trudging across the courtyard to the Baron’s tower, Will felt as though he was being led to the gallows.
“All right, candidates!” Martin, the Baron’s secretary, greeted them with a bright, booming voice as they entered the study. “Come on, come on!” He waved them inside impatiently, his tone clipped and hurried. Will shuffled in at the back of the group, making sure to make himself small and invisible as he kept his back to the wall.
The study was imposing. A massive oak desk dominated the space, flanked by shelves of heavy books and an assortment of maps. Through the window, Will could see the top of the fig tree he often hid in when life overwhelmed him and he couldn’t go outside of the castle.
“Come now! Stand in line, stand in line” Martin barked as they had all stayed clustered together. As they drew apart slightly, the man still seemed displeased as he indicated “In size place! Tallest this end!”
Horace grinned confidently as he took his place right at the indicated space. Alyss followed, graceful and poised as ever. George stepped up next, then Jenny, who hesitated briefly before gesturing for Will to go ahead. Will shook his head and gently nudged her forward. They wouldn’t be fooling anyone into thinking he wasn’t the shortest of the group.
“Come on! Smarten up, smarten up! Let’s see you at attention there.” Martin continued, seemingly happy to keep repeating his own words when a deep voice interrupted him.
“I don’t believe that’s totally necessary, Martin.”
Baron Arald had entered through the smaller door behind his desk, his presence commanding but not unkind. His broad shoulders and confident stride still carried the echoes of his knightly past, though his softer stomach betrayed his love of hearty meals. His black beard, streaked with gay, framed a face that was both strong and thoughtful, with piercing eyes that glinted with quiet humour.
With a start he realized that he owed everything in his life to this one man, he would have to remind himself to thank him later, he might never have the chance again otherwise.
“Sir!” Martin’s voice cut through Will’s observations, and he realized he’d been staring at the baron for longer than was appropriate. “The candidates are assembled!”
“I can see that,” Baron Arald replied patiently, his eyes twinkling softly with humour. “Perhaps you might be good enough to ask the Craftmasters to step in as well?” Martin made to open his mouth, the Baron continued “Ask, Martin. The Craftmasters don’t take well to being yelled at.”
Will couldn’t quite see from where he was standing near the window, but he did hear Martin politely inviting the Craftmasters inside, before introducing them to the wards. Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool; Ulf, the Horsemaster; Lady Pauline, head of the Diplomatic Service; Nigel, the Scribemaster; and Master Chubb, the Head Chef.
Will’s heart sunk further with each arrival. None of them seemed a good fit for him. He wasn’t strong enough for Battleschool or training horses, nor skilled enough for diplomacy or scribework. And cooking? That would just be laughable. His shoulders slumped as he tried to steel himself for the inevitable disappointment.
For the others, it was straightforward. Take a step forward, announce your name and the Craftmaster you wished to apprentice under. A question or two would follow, but there had been no real fear of non-acceptance. His ward-mates knew who they were, what they were worth, and what they wanted.
Will’s mind drifted the longer the whole ceremony dragged on. What was he even doing here? He had no place, no skills, no future in this room. Letting his eyes wander around the room made him catch the Ranger’s gaze.
The Ranger was standing right beside the smaller door the baron had come through earlier and must have slipped inside while everyone was distracted. Even now, it seemed as if he was only halfway there, with how he was blending into the stones behind him.
Will met the dark eyes set in a shadowed face with no small amount of fear. Quickly dropping his gaze to his beloved three outside, he tried to ignore the Ranger’s presence. He did wonder what the man was doing here. Was the baron perhaps worried about how today would turn out? Where they already aware of his plans to run away?
He was vaguely aware of Jenny being officially accepted as Master Chubb’s new apprentice when she elbowed him in the ribs to take a step forward. Startled he looked back towards the others and found them all gazing curiously in his direction.
Taking a shaking step forward he introduced himself. “Will, sir. My name is Will.”
“Will?” Martin’s shrill voice hurt his ears as he flicked through his sheets looking for a last name. “Will who?” Will found his face heating up as he was reminded of his humble beginnings. “What’s your family’s name, boy?” Martin’s displeased voice made him want to take several steps back to hide behind the others.
“I ... Don’t have -”
“Will is a special case, Martin.” Baron Arald’s voice firmly cut off Martin’s inquiries. “What school did you wish to apply for, Will?” He asked gently.
Will swallowed, he already knew there was no way he would be accepted but couldn't bring himself to let go of the dream. “Battleschool please, my lord.”
As the Baron frowned at him, Will already knew he had lost. “Don’t you think you’re ... a little on the small side?” His voice was still gentle and reassuring, but this was the only hope Will had left to become a knight like his father had been before him.
“I haven’t had my growing spurt yet, sir.” his voice cracked as he answered the Baron desperately. “Everyone says that.”
“Rodney?” The Baron looked towards the Battlemaster.
“I’m afraid he’s too small, my lord.”
Will felt a cold hand clutch his heart. He had known there would be no acceptance here. He could argue until he was blue in the face that he would work hard, and that he could do this, but there was no point. He knew there was no point. They wouldn’t believe him, not seeing any further than his current small posture.
“What skills do you have, Will?” The Baron asked him. Will was just staring at him silently while shaking his head. He had nothing to offer here. He wasn’t a scholar, or a diplomat, or a cook. He wasn’t strong or fast or clever.
“He’s a good climber, my lord.” Alyss said suddenly, her voice calm but firm.
Not a moment later Will found Master Chubb’s eyes on him angrily. “He’s a good climber, all right. I remember when he climbed up a drainpipe into my kitchen and stole a tray of sweet-cakes that were cooling on the windowsill.”
Will could only wish that the ground would give away beneath his feet. It had been a dare from Horace and it had been years ago. Glancing towards the Ranger he could only see the downturned mouth as his eyes had been shadowed beneath the hood again. Rangers dealt with law-breakers, and Master Chubb had just told him something he hadn’t known and hadn’t wanted to hear.
“And just this last spring, he climbed up to our third floor study and turned two rabbits loose during one of our legal debates. Most disruptive, absolutely!” Scribemaster Nigel only sealed the deal further. That, too, had been a dare from Horace who had helped him catch the bunnies in the first place.
Being able to do nothing but keep his gaze on the floor beneath the Baron’s desk, he let the others keep speaking about the nature of rabbits in spring. He had no defence as he had indeed done those things.
“Is there any one of you who could use the boy?” Baron Arald eventually stopped the conversation with this final question. Despite knowing the answer already, Will still turned his head to look at the Craftmasters, just in time to see them all shake their heads no.
It was the Ranger who broke the cursed silence. “There is something you should know about this boy, my lord.” The man had a deep but soft-spoken voice. Though his tone was neutral, almost indifferent, it sent an involuntary shiver racing down Will’s spine. He felt trapped under the weight of those words.
The ranger stepped forward, his cloak shifting slightly as he produced a small piece of paper and handed it to the Baron. The Baron unfolded the note, his expression briefly flickering with surprise before settling into his usual calm demeanour. “Very well,” he said at last, folding the paper and setting it down on his desk. His dark eyes settled on Will, considering. “Return here tomorrow, Will. I need to think about this.”
Will blinked, his heart sinking deeper into his chest. He had half-expected the Baron to dismiss him on the spot, to confirm that his place was elsewhere – on some forgotten farm or in the lowest ranks of servitude. But this? This uncertainty? It was worse.
“Congratulations to those who were selected here today.” The Baron’s voice brightened as he addressed the rest of the group. “It’s a big day for all of you so you’re free to have the rest of the day off and enjoy yourselves. The kitchens will provide a banquet for you in your quarters. Will, I’ll let you know tomorrow what I’ve decided to do with you.”
The room erupted into murmurs and movement as the wards began filing out, their excitement palpable. Will remained frozen for a moment, his mind spinning. What could the Ranger have known about him that might even delay his inevitable rejection? He didn’t dare meet the man’s hooded gaze again, focusing instead on the Baron’s impassive face until someone nudged him from behind to get moving.
As they were ushered out of the tower, Will’s thoughts churned. Anxiety prickled at him, refusing to let go. He had wanted the Baron to simply end things – to seal his fate with finality. But now he was left with the suffocating weight of what-ifs.
The moment they crossed the threshold of the tower, Will slipped away from the group. While the others buzzed with energy, talking about their new apprenticeships and futures, he headed in the opposite direction, his footsteps soft on the cobblestones. He felt no desire to join their celebrations or listen to Horace’s smug remarks. He only wanted an escape.
The forest bordering the castle grounds called to him. It’s trees tall and strong, their branches like open arms. It was there, in the embrace of a sturdy oak, that Will finally allowed himself to break. Climbing into the safety of its upper branches hidden among fresh spring blossoms, he leaned his back against the trunk and slumped forward.
Tears came freely now, and he made no effort to stop them. The tightness in his chest eased with every sob, though the ache in his heart remained. He had known this day wouldn’t end well. He had known he wouldn’t be chosen. But still, he’d clung to hope, and now that hope got shattered. He couldn’t even say the Baron had been cruel about it. The man was known for doing his utmost in finding every ward a good place.
Remembering the grim face of the Ranger standing hidden behind the Baron, he doubted it would be any good. Had he messed up too much to be even allowed a future anymore?
Be a good boy, Will.
Knocking his head gently against the bark, he allowed himself to wallow in his self-pity for a while. No one would find him here. He was safe in his solitude, hidden from the prying eyes of the world.
And yet, the uneasy feeling of being watched crept over him. He froze, holding his breath, but no sound came from the forest floor below. It’s just your imagination, he thought while shaking his head. No one knows you’re here.
As day shifted into evening, the sun’s warm light gave way to shadow. Will finally came down from his tree, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He didn’t feel hunger – not really- but he knew he needed to return to the quarters. There would be consequences if he missed curfew, and he couldn’t bear another lecture from Mary or one of the stewards.
The halls were alive with the sound of celebration when he slipped back inside. His fellow wards were gathered around the banquet table, laughing and chatting as they indulged in the feast prepared for them. Will avoided their gazes, keeping his head low as he made his way towards his room.
“Hey, Will!” Horace’s voice called after him, sharp and mocking. “What’s the matter? No banquet for a no-name?”
Will gritted his teeth, refusing to stop. He tried to shut out the mocking laugher that followed him.
“Will?” Alyss’s voice was softer, filled with concern. “Are you alright?”
Jenny chimed in, her tone warm and inviting, “Come sit with us. You haven’t eaten.”
But Will didn’t answer. He pushed open the door to his room and stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him. There, in the quiet, he let out a long, shaky breath and sank onto the bed, face first.
Tomorrow. He would face whatever awaited him. For now, he would close his eyes and wait for the restless hours to pass.
Night deepened, and Will listened to the muffled sounds of the other wards settling into bed. By morning, they would rise at dawn to meet their new masters and begin their apprenticeships. The thought of their excitement, their futures so firmly decided, filled him with a bitter, aching longing.
As midnight passed, Will found himself still wide-awake staring at the ceiling of his small room. The question gnawed at him, relentless. What could possibly be so wrong with him that the Baron needed to deliberate? Why had the Ranger been involved at all? He was a nobody – just another orphan, another ward the Baron would place somewhere suitable. Wasn’t he?
The uncertainty twisted his stomach until he couldn’t take it any longer. He had to know; he wouldn’t sleep until he did.
Slipping silently from his bed, Will padded across the room, careful not to wake his ward-mates. He made his way through the shadowy halls and out into the courtyard. The cool night air hit his face, calming his nerves slightly as he approached the Baron’s tower. He stuck to the shadows, his movements careful and deliberate as he scanned for guards.
Timing his approach between the patrols, Will darted forward and flattened himself against the base of the tower. The stones were rough beneath his fingers as he began to climb, his small frame and nimble hands finding purchase with practiced ease. He had never scaled anything quite so tall before, and the knowledge that a guard might spot him at any moment added a sharp edge to his determination.
The climb seemed to stretch on forever, his muscles straining as he hauled himself up the shadowed side of the tower. At last, he reached the open window, swinging himself over the sill and landing lightly inside. Will leaned against the cool stone, catching his breath, relief flooding him. He had made it.
The room was empty, just as he’d hoped. Pale moonlight spilled across the Baron’s desk, where the small slip of paper still lay. Will’s heart hammered as he approached, his gaze locked on that single scrap. He reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against it—
A hand shot out of the darkness, seizing his wrist in an iron grip. Will’s gasp caught in his throat, terror jolting through him as his head snapped up to meet the cold, piercing gaze of the Ranger.
Where had he come from? The room had seemed completely empty, and yet here the man stood, shrouded in shadow, his expression cold and unreadable.
“Thought you might try something like this,” the Ranger said in a low, even tone. The sound sent chills down Will’s spine, more frightening than any shout could have been. He stared at the man, wide-eyed and speechless, his mind blank with fear and shame.
The Ranger’s grip didn’t falter as he pulled Will closer, his eyes narrowing. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Be a good boy, Will.
Will shook his head, his voice utterly failing him. What could he possibly say? He had been caught red-handed, breaking the law and betraying the trust of the man who had cared for him.
“Well,” the Ranger continued, his tone hardening, “let’s see what the Baron thinks about this.”
Will’s heart sank. The Ranger’s grip was unyielding as he began to drag him toward the door. Panic clawed at Will’s chest, but so did despair. He couldn’t even find the courage to struggle. Shame burned in his cheeks, hot and unbearable. The Baron had been kind to him, had given him everything, and this—this was how he repaid him?
“Please,” Will whispered, his voice trembling. “Please, Ranger. Not—”
The Ranger stopped abruptly, turning back to face him. “Not what?” he demanded, his voice sharp.
Will shook his head, the words dying on his tongue. There was nothing he could say that would make any of this right. He hung his head, his chest tightening as tears threatened to fall.
The Ranger’s grip on his wrist felt like an iron shackle, and though Will wanted to ask him to ease up, he didn’t dare. Instead, his thoughts spiralled, dragging him back to a promise he’d made to himself long ago.
Good boys don’t have to worry about Rangers.
He had been five years old when he’d first overheard the stories, the whispered rumours about Rangers and their dark, mysterious ways. He had vowed to be obedient, to never do anything that might draw their attention. And yet here he was, caught by a man who seemed to embody every fear he had ever had.
The Ranger hauled him through the tower door and up the winding staircase toward the Baron’s private quarters. Will’s heart thundered in his chest with every step. As they reached the top, the guards stationed outside the Baron’s chambers looked up in surprise, their eyes flicking between the grim-faced Ranger and the pale, trembling boy he dragged behind him.
At a curt nod from the Ranger, the guards stepped aside and opened the doors. Will wanted to disappear, to shrink into nothingness as he was marched forward into the Baron’s chambers, the Ranger’s grip unrelenting.
The Baron’s room was brightly lit, and Will took a long moment to absorb his surroundings. Baron Arald sat in a comfortable armchair, reading through a pile of reports. The room was dominated by a large fireplace that cast a warm, flickering light across the walls.
As they entered, the Baron looked up at him from the page he was holding. Will immediately dropped his gaze in shame, his wrist still smarting where the Ranger had gripped it. The Baron’s expression shifted from curiosity to something harder, his brow furrowing deeply.
“So, you were right,” the Baron said, his voice even but carrying a weight that made Will shrink further into himself.
The Ranger gave a curt nod. “Just as I said, my lord. Came across the castle yard like a shadow, dodged the sentry as if he wasn’t there. Climbed the tower wall like a spider.”
The Baron leaned forward in his chair. “Climbed the tower, you say?”
“No rope. No ladder. Did it as easily as you’d mount your horse in the morning. Easier, in fact.”
Will bristled slightly at the remark, but he kept his head down. He didn’t like how the Ranger’s words deepened the Baron’s frown, making the man seem even more displeased. He had no one to blame but himself, but still, it stung.
“Well now,” the Baron said, rising to his feet. “This is a serious matter.” He approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, and Will resisted the urge to flinch under the man’s intense gaze.
“Tell me, young Will,” the Baron continued, his voice quiet but firm. “What would you do in my place? What would you do with a boy who broke into your office in the middle of the night and tried to steal an important document?”
Will’s head snapped up. “I wasn’t stealing, my lord!” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, his voice sharp with panic. “I just... I just wanted to see it, that’s all!”
The Baron’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his frown deepened, and Will’s voice faltered. He shrank under the weight of the man’s stern gaze, his shoulders sagging as he stared back down at the floor.
“Perhaps so,” the Baron said, his tone thoughtful now, “but you haven’t answered my question. What would you do in my place?”
Will opened his mouth, then closed it again. His thoughts raced, but no answer came to mind. What could he say? It wasn’t his place to decide another’s fate—especially not when his own hung in the balance.
“My lord,” he said hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know. I know there’s no excuse for my actions, and... and I’ll accept whatever punishment you think is fair.”
He heard the Baron hum thoughtfully, the sound filling the heavy silence in the room. The Ranger shifted slightly behind him, the soft creak of leather the only indication that the Ranger was still there.
“Any suggestions, Halt?” the Baron asked at last, glancing over Will’s shoulder.
Will felt the air go still. So, the Ranger – Halt – would decide his punishment? His heart sank further, and his stomach twisted painfully. He had heard the whispers—the ones that said Rangers were dangerous, even merciless. Some claimed their black magic made people vanish, never to be seen again.
“Perhaps we should show him the paper he was so keen to see, my lord,” Halt said. His voice was calm, almost amused, though there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down Will’s spine.
The Baron tilted his head, considering the suggestion. Then, to Will’s surprise, he smiled faintly. “Not a bad idea, I suppose. In a way, it does spell out his punishment, doesn’t it?”
Will blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing. He thought they would have to go downstairs to retrieve the paper, but Halt handed it to him almost immediately. Will hesitated, staring at the slip of paper in the Ranger’s outstretched hand. When had he taken it?
He looked to the Baron for permission, and the man gave a single nod. His expression was expectant now, though unreadable.
With trembling fingers, Will took the paper and unfolded it carefully. His eyes scanned the words, and he read them twice before they truly sank in:
The boy Will has the potential to be trained as a Ranger. I will accept him as my apprentice.
Will had no idea what was happening anymore. First, he’d suffered the humiliation of being refused by every Craftmaster. Now this?
Silence stretched between them, and Will finally lifted his eyes to meet the Baron’s face, confusion evident in his expression. He couldn’t gauge the Ranger’s reaction without turning to look, but he felt the weight of the man’s presence behind him like a shadow.
Was he truly being assigned to the Rangers? A cold pit formed in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine what life in their service might entail, but he doubted it was anything pleasant.
“Well, what do you say, Will?” The Baron’s voice was kind, though his question felt pointed.
“Thank you, sir... my lord,” Will stammered, uncertain. The Baron’s earlier comment—about the paper spelling out his punishment—still lingered ominously in his mind.
“Perhaps you might give us a few moments alone, Halt?” the Baron said, glancing past Will.
Will exhaled in relief as the presence behind him vanished. He didn’t hear the Ranger’s footsteps, only the quiet click of the door closing.
“Sit down, Will.” The Baron gestured to a low armchair facing his own.
Will perched on the edge of the seat, his hands gripping his knees. He shifted nervously as the Baron studied him with calm but discerning eyes.
“You don’t seem very pleased with my decision,” the Baron began, leaning back in his chair. “Would you prefer to work as a farmhand?”
Will blinked in surprise. The Baron’s voice wasn’t scolding, but the question made him feel sheepish. He was reminded of how much the Baron cared for the wards under his protection. Yet this… this felt different.
“No, sir,” he answered quickly.
“Well then, would you prefer that I punished you in some other way for what you’ve done?”
Will opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. He didn’t trust the first answer that came to mind and took a moment to think. Finally, he replied, “It’s just that… I’m not sure you haven’t, sir.”
The Baron tilted his head, his lips twitching faintly at the corners. “Ah. I see. You’re worried about the reputation Rangers have. Black magic, is it?”
Will nodded.
“The Rangers are a mysterious group,” the Baron acknowledged, his tone thoughtful. “But there’s nothing about them to fear—unless you’re an enemy of the kingdom.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice growing firm. “You’re not an enemy of the kingdom, are you, Will?”
Will’s heart thudded painfully. The words sent a chill through him. He had broken into the Baron’s study to look at something he wasn’t supposed to. Did that make him an enemy?
“No, sir!” he blurted, panic lacing his voice.
Good boys don’t have to worry about Rangers.
“All right, all right,” the Baron said gently, holding up a hand to calm him. “I know you’re not. But believe me, Will, I thought you’d be glad of this appointment. An adventurous lad like you should take to life as a Ranger like a duck to water.”
Will stared at him, his thoughts racing.
“It’s a big opportunity,” the Baron continued. “Very few boys are chosen to be apprentice Rangers. The chance only comes up on rare occasions.”
Will nodded slowly, though unease still gnawed at him. It was clear the Baron was trying to do right by him, and Will felt a deep sense of gratitude for that. But becoming a Ranger? He wasn’t sure he wanted it. Still, it wasn’t as if he had a choice.
The decision had been made. He had considered running away, but now he knew that wasn’t an option anymore. Everyone knew you didn’t run from a Ranger—not if you wanted to keep your life.
“Yes, my lord,” he said at last, his voice subdued.
The Baron smiled warmly. “Good. Halt will be expecting you at six tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re on time.”
Will stood, sensing the dismissal in the Baron’s words. As he turned toward the door, something held him back. He hesitated, then looked over his shoulder. “My lord?”
The Baron raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.
“I just wanted to say... thank you. For everything. For all your care over the years.”
The Baron’s expression softened, his eyebrows lifting in surprise before settling into a kind smile. “Have a good night, Will. And don’t forget—bright and early!”
Will nodded and stepped out of the Baron’s private rooms, closing the door firmly behind him.
He returned to his quarters in silence. The others were still asleep, and the castle was quiet in the pre-dawn hours. Gathering his few possessions, he packed them into a small bundle. His life had been contained in this place, but now he was leaving it behind.
Before the first rays of sunlight could touch the castle walls, Will slipped out of the building for what might be the last time. He tightened his grip on his pack, steeling himself as he made his way toward Halt’s cabin.
He found it just as the son rose above the horizon. Nestled under the shelter of the trees at the forest’s edge, it looked simple yet sturdy. A thin spiral of smoke rose lazily from the chimney, suggesting that Halt was already – or perhaps still – awake..
Taking a deep steadying breath, Will stepped up to the front door and knocked firmly.
“Come in.” a voice came from within.
Wille pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cottage was small but neat and surprisingly comfortable-looking.
Halt sat on a wooden chair in the combined kitchen and living area, his sharp gaze lifting briefly from whatever he’d been working on. Will closed the door behind him but hesitated to step further inside.
“At least you’re on time.” Halt said gruffly. “Have you had breakfast?”
Thinking back to the leftovers he’d nicked on his way out of the castle, Will nodded “Yes, sir.”
It felt strange to see the Ranger in such a domestic setting. His trademark cloak was nowhere in sight, and he wore simple brown and grey wool clothes and soft leather boots. Though his expression was as stern as ever, the absence of his usual gear made him look more … human.
Will’s eyes lingered a moment too long, and Halt noticed. “Finished staring?” The Ranger asked, his tone cutting.
“Yes! Sorry, sir,” Will stammered, snapping his gaze to the floor.
Halt grunted and gestured toward one of the two doors inside the cabin. “That’s your room. You can put your things in there.”
Will nodded and crossed the living area, his steps tentative. The small room was sparsely furnished with a narrow bed, a wardrobe, and a single chair. He set his bundle of belongings carefully inside the wardrobe, unsure why he’d been given a private room. Halt didn’t seem particularly pleased with him, so why offer him such a kindness? The question gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside for now.
Returning to the living area he found Halt standing at the stove, stirring a pot. The scent of coffee filled the air, calming Will slightly as he hovered near the table. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit, so he remained standing, shifting awkwardly.
Staring at his new master, Will wasn’t sure if he was allowed to interrupt what the man was doing.
“Not done staring yet?” Halts voice broke the silence as he poured the coffee into two cups and carried them towards the table.
“Sorry, sir.” Will repeated, his cheeks flushing.
“Sit down, boy.” Halt’s tone brooked no argument as he took a seat, placing one of the cups in front of Will.
Will sat cautiously, watching as the Ranger nursed his coffee between his hands. The entire situation felt surreal. If Will didn’t know he was wide awake, he might have thought he was dreaming.
“Got any questions?” Halt asked abruptly, his sharp eyes locking onto Will’s.
“Yes, sir.” Will hesitated, seeing the fait downturn of the Ranger’s mouth. Still, he pressed on. “I was wondering ... what does a Ranger actually do?”
The question had burned in his mind since he’d been a child. No one had ever given him a clear answer, and now seemed the perfect opportunity.
“What Rangers do,” Halt started of casually, “Or more precisely, what Ranger apprentices do, is the housework.”
Will blinked, taken aback. The response should have angered him. He’d dreamed of studying under a Craftmaster, not being reduced to a glorified servant. Yet as he considered it, he felt an unexpected sense of relief. Housework was far better than the dark, mysterious tasks he’d feared.
“Yes, sir,” he said after a moment, accepting the answer.
Halt’s frown deepened, his piercing gaze studying Will. “That’s it?”
Will stood abruptly, not wanting to anger the man further. “Where should I start, sir?”
Halt sighed, rubbing his temple before listing a string of chores: fetching water, chopping firewood, sweeping the cabin, and several smaller tasks. Will committed them to memory, rolled up his sleeves, and turned toward the door.
“Wait.” Halt’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
Will turned back, startled by the intensity in Halt’s expression. The Ranger’s gaze had dropped to Will’s wrist, where a dark ring of bruises marked the spot Halt had gripped him the night before.
Will instinctively pulled his arm back, hiding it behind his back. Before Halt could say anything, Will mumbled an excuse and hurried out the door, nearly tripping over the threshold in his haste.
By late afternoon, Will had finished the list of chores. He wiped sweat from his brow as he put the last of the supplies away, glancing toward the table where Halt was hunched over a pile of papers. The Ranger muttered something under his breath, his expression sharp with concentration.
Will sank onto a small chair near the kitchen, the one mostly used as a stepstool. Halt noticed almost immediately and turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ve finished the chores, sir,” Will said quickly.
Halt’s gaze swept the cabin, noting the clean floors, stocked firewood, and orderly shelves. He nodded once, his approval subtle but unmistakable.
Do you know how to cook?” Halt asked, gathering the papers and setting them aside.
“No, sir,” Will admitted, his stomach sinking.
“Well, time you learned,” Halt said, gesturing for Will to join him by the stove.
Will spent the next hour learning the basics of making a simple stew. He paid close attention to Halt’s instructions, realizing this would likely become his responsibility from now on.
After dinner, Will cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen. When everything was back in place, he hesitated before bidding Halt a hasty goodnight and retreating to his room.
Halt gave him an odd look but said nothing as Will closed the door firmly behind him.
The bed was softer than Will expected. He hadn’t planned to fall asleep so early, wanting to stay awake until he was certain Halt had gone to bed. But exhaustion won out. Between the lack of sleep in recent days and the physical labour of the chores, Will drifted off quickly, the fear and uncertainty of the day giving way to the deep, dreamless rest of the truly weary.
Will woke to the cheerful sound of birds chirping outside. The early light creeping through the shutters told him he had about half an hour before sunrise. The cottage was still quiet, and for a moment, he simply lay there, allowing himself to adjust to the day ahead.
After breakfast, he’d start on the same list of chores. That seemed to be his life now – practically a live-in servant for the Ranger.
It could be worse, he supposed. Compared to whatever other punishment the Baron might have devised, this was tolerable. Halt still scared him, but seeing the man in his home, dressed in plain clothes and moving about like an ordinary person, had softened some of that fear.
The rumours still lingered in Will’s mind. How much of them were true? Was he truly just here to do chores, or was there a darker purpose? Could he still end up as some sort of human sacrifice for Halt’s supposed black magic rituals?
No, he told himself firmly. That one didn’t seem likely anymore. He’d cleaned every corner of the cottage and found nothing remotely magical – though he wasn’t sure he’d recognize magic if he saw it.
As long as he behaved, he told himself, everything would be fine. Halt didn’t seem to like questions, so Will would keep those to a minimum. The Ranger hadn’t been displeased with his work so far, so he would focus on that.
Just do the chores. Be a good boy, Will.
With that mantra in mind, he dressed in clean clothes and left his room, stepping quietly into the living area. He froze in surprise – Halt was already awake, setting the table for breakfast.
Will hadn’t heard a thing. How had Halt moved without making a sound? The cottage was small; surely something should’ve woken him.
The man seemed to have everything under control, but Will decided it was safer to ask “Anything I can help with, sir?”
“No, just sit down.” Halt replied, his voice still rough from sleep.
Breakfast passed in silence, with Will keeping his focus on the food. He knew he’d need the energy for the day ahead. Halt seemed moodier than the day before, though, his frown deeper and his gaze sharper.
When they’d both finished eating, Will jumped out of his chair to gather the dishes, eager the show he was pulling his weight. Halt watched him with the same disgruntled look he’d thrown Will’s way occasionally since he’d arrived, but Will ignored it. Better to be seen as too eager than lazy, he reasoned.
The kitchen cleaned, he moved straight to the day’s chores. The pattern quickly established itself over the next two days. Will volunteered for everything or anything that needed – or not needed – doing.
Instead of approval, Halt’s frown seemed to deepen each time Will took the initiative to get started on something. It left him uneasy, the weight of the older man’s gaze like a constant question he couldn’t answer. Was he doing something wrong? The chores were supposed to be his job now, weren’t they? Was it not enough?
By the third morning, Halt’s frown greeted Will the moment he stepped out of his room at sunrise. The silence over breakfast was heavier than in the days past, and Will struggled not to squirm under the Ranger’s sharp gaze. He forced himself to finish his meal quickly and rose to collect the plates, determined to stay on top of his duties.
Halt’s hand shot out, taking the plates from him with a firmness that left no room for argument. “Only the water and the firewood,” Halt instructed, his tone leaving no place for debate. “We need to talk.”
Will’s stomach sank at those words. “Yes, sir,” he managed, his voice barely above a squeak. He hurried out the door, heart pounding in his chest.
As he hauled bucket after bucket of water from the river, his mind churned with possibilities. What could Halt want to talk about? Was Will failing somehow? Was he about to be sent away? Back to the Baron, who might finally decide on a harsher punishment? Or worse, to some farm where he’d spend the rest of his life in obscurity?
By the time he returned with the day’s firewood, his thoughts had spiralled into full-blown panic. He stumbled into the cottage, his arms aching as he deposited the load into the basket by the fireplace.
Straightening, he spotted Halt at the table. Two cups of coffee sat steaming in front of him, one clearly meant for Will. It was an invitation, but not one that calmed his nerves.
Knowing there was no way to delay whatever conversation awaited, Will reluctantly took the seat opposite to Halt, gripping the warm cup in front of him as if it could anchor him. He noticed his sleeves were still rolled up and hurriedly tugged them down to hide the bruise on his wrist. Halt didn’t need to see that.
“Will,” Halt began, his tone measured but firm. “What exactly do you think is going on here?”
“Sir?” Will stammered, caught of guard by the question.
“You’ve accepted being my apprentice. What do you think that means?”
Will’s gaze dropped to the table as he struggled to find an answer. “I don’t – I don’t know, sir.” He admitted quietly.
Halt hummed thoughtfully, his sharp gaze never leaving Will. “Do you even know what Rangers actually do?”
Will looked up, startled. He expected frustration or even anger, but Halt’s expression was unexpectedly calm - almost kind. Yet, the question felt like a trap. Halt had brushed off his curiosity when he’d first arrived. Why was he asking now? He hesitated, then gave the only honest answer he could. “I don’t, sir.”
Halt nodded, leaning back slightly. “Then tell me what you think Rangers do.”
“Well—uhm,” Will faltered, his heart pounding. What could he say that wouldn’t get him into trouble? If he was wrong, Halt might be angry. But if he guessed too well, it might raise suspicion.
“Just tell me whatever you know,” Halt prompted. “Believe me, I’ve heard every ridiculous rumour you can imagine.”
Taking a steadying breath, Will risked an answer, “I’ve been told Rangers keep the kingdom safe, sir. They have eyes and ears everywhere, and they deal with traitors and criminals. If you break the law, Rangers find out, and then you just...” His voice faltered.
“...Just?” Halt pressed, his expression unreadable.
“Disappear, sir.” Will finished in a whisper.
For a moment, Halt said nothing, simply studying Will. “Did you think that was going to happen to you?”
The words hit Will like a hammer, and he couldn’t stop the flinch that followed. He clenched his jaw, trying to mask his fear, but he knew it was useless. Halt had seen it.
“I see,” Halt said quietly, his tone unreadable. “Here’s what I don’t understand, Will. You’re fifteen years old, yet you seem perfectly content to spend your days scrubbing floors and fetching water?”
“Yes, sir,” Will replied instinctively, his voice tight.
Halt raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me, Will.”
The words, spoken so softly, felt sharper than any reprimand. Will flinched again, dropping his hands to his lap. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
For years, Halt had been the shadow in Will’s nightmares—the faceless monster that dragged people away, never to be seen again. And now, here he was, flesh and blood, sitting across from him. It was unsettling to feel the full force of the man’s attention, to have nowhere to hide.
When Halt stood suddenly, Will’s breath hitched, his heart hammering in his chest. He fought the urge to bolt, knowing there was no escape. Halt’s boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he rounded the table. A warm, steady hand landed on Will’s shoulder, and he flinched again. Halt sat down in the chair right next to him.
“Look at me,” Halt said softly, voice low but firm.
Will raised his head reluctantly, expecting anger. Instead, Halt’s expression was calm, even gentle. Carefully, the man took his arm and rolled up his sleeve, exposing the bruise that still marred Will’s wrist.
“I’m sorry for scaring you that night,” Halt said, his voice quieter now. “Hurting you wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s fine,” Will muttered, watching as Halt rotated his wrist gently, inspecting the injury for further damage.
“It’s not fine,” Halt replied firmly. “If I ever do something that hurts you, I need you to tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Will said quickly, though he wasn’t sure he truly meant it.
Halt sighed, a soft sound of resignation. “Rangers are indeed the eyes and ears of the kingdom,” he began. “We gather intelligence on threats—criminals, traitors, and those who endanger the peace. That information is presented to the Baron so action can be taken. It’s our job to protect the kingdom, whether from outside threats or those within.”
Will blinked, surprised by the sudden explanation.
“We don’t deal with petty crimes—things like drunkenness, theft, or...” Halt gave him a pointed look. “...pranks. That’s for local guards and knights to handle.”
“Oh,” Will said softly. The realization hit him like a splash of cold water. “How did you-”
“You were terrified during Choosing Day whenever your pranks were mentioned,” Halt interrupted. “And you weren’t looking at Baron Arald. You were watching me, trying to see if I was angry.”
Will flushed, embarrassed by how transparent he must have been.
The Ranger continued, his tone more instructional now. “As my apprentice, you’ll begin learning what it means to be a Ranger. We’ll start tomorrow with some of the basics.”
“Only tomorrow, sir?” Will asked, his voice tinted with eagerness, his apprehension easing at the prospect.
Halt’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I need to visit the Baron today. Take the day off—enjoy some sunlight. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to shoot a bow.”
Will felt a hesitant smile tug at his lips. A day of freedom—and the promise of real training—felt almost too good to be true.
“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice stronger now.
As Halt turned to retrieve his cloak, Will leaned back, savouring the moment. Maybe being a Ranger’s apprentice wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Good boys don’t have to worry about Rangers.
Mary had been right all along.