Cera tried to cover her shocked face with a crooked smile. She was asked no. She was ordered to train the noble to make him her squire and teach him to knighthood. Why Cera, she thought, why not some other knight indeed? Surely, others were far more qualified for the task than her. Countless questions formed in her head, all circling the same thought. Why her?

  She glanced at Miller in confusion, trying to find an explanation in his expression. He looked at her. His face remained flat. Then, as if to read what she was thinking, his eyes pointed to the young lord and told her to ask for an explanation herself. She hesitated, then let out a quiet sigh, barely noticeable.

  “Uh, General,” She paused, unsure of herself. “May I ask for further explanation as to why I am being given this, uh, privilege? I’m sure there are other knights who will be much more enthusiastic about the offer to train a lord.” Cera chose her words carefully to avoid offending the lord or the General.

  “Ah, yes, I should explain my reasoning,” General Thatcher said. His voice seemed sincere, perhaps oblivious to what Cera was implying. “It was fairly recent when I received the letter from Lord Aldric, Lord Clifford’s father. The letter requested that his first son receive the tutelage of one of the knights within my unit. And that he be taught the ways of combat and witnessed the frontlines of the war himself.”

  “Of course, in the letter, he asked that I pick the most respected and well-known knight in my unit. There were several people that I could’ve chosen. Miller was actually one of the knights I thought of,” He pointed behind him. “However, he refused my offering, a shame, but I respect his decision. Then you came to mind, Cera. You know you’re one of the top swordsmen in the unit, and the decision was clear as day. Even with your unfortunate injury, I’m sure you’ll forge a strong knight out of Lord Clifford.”

  Cera was mixed with emotions. She was delighted that the General spoke highly of her. However, he had tasked her with training someone into a knight because of that. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so reluctant if it was an average peasant, someone without an important background, but this was a lord. What would happen if she didn’t fulfil her role as a teacher? Would she be forced out of the army, exiled, or beheaded? Images flashed through her mind and, while exaggerated, weren’t unreasonable.

  General Thatcher went to pat Cera’s shoulder but stopped before he could, realising that it wouldn’t be wise to touch an injured shoulder. He stepped back and made eye contact with her. His eyes flickered with anticipation. Although it was a command, he wanted to hear Cera’s confirmation.

  Cera paused, unsure of what to do. She turned from his gaze and looked at the young Clifford, who stood beside the General. He wore simple clothing: a neatly fitted white shirt, brown trousers, and a small brown leather coat, perfectly fitting him. Clifford had a cleanliness to him that separated him from the knights; his black hair was cut short, nearly falling to his ears, and his freckles dotted the bridge of his nose.

  Could I do it? It wasn’t an impossible task. It was just troublesome. Cera didn’t want to have a responsibility like that. It would hinder her combat practice, slow her down, but what other choice did she have? Refuse? That would be even worse for her. She’s been cornered, she admitted. Why did it have to be me?

  What else can she do? Her eyes wandered for a bit, and then they stopped at her shoulder, her broken shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with flickers of hope. A fractured shoulder was a significant handicap for a knight, especially one teaching their squire swordsmanship. That could work—a perfect excuse to avoid taking on this noble as her squire.

  Cera looked up. “What about my shoulder? Wouldn’t it hinder the process of teaching him swordsmanship?”

  “Yes, that,” The General said. “No worries, I’ve already thought of that, Cera. You wouldn’t need to worry about that unfortunate shoulder since you won’t need it!”

  “Please explain further, General.”

  General Thatcher cleared his throat. “You would not need it for quite some time since Clifford is already skilled with the sword. You can ask the other knights to spar with him while you wait for your shoulder to heal. You only need to teach him in the different fields, such as battle tactics and the occasional squirmish with the enemy.”

  Great. He just had to be skilled already. What else can I do? Give in? Although Cera didn’t want to do that, it felt that it was her only option now. General Thatcher had already planned for everything. He ensured that her injury wasn’t an issue and that her squire would not be a burden. Maybe teaching won’t be so bad, right? She persuaded herself, and a spark of optimism flickered, but Cera was still sceptical. How would she know if this would be beneficial for her? There is only one way to know if this will be worthwhile.

  She sharply breathed. “Well, there don’t seem to be any other issues,” Cera gulped. “Then I would be grateful to have Lord Clifford as my squire.” A squire? Cera didn’t plan on teaching any squires during her time in the army, mostly because she thought she wasn’t worthy of any. But now that she did have a squire and one who was a noble, what did she actually intend to teach?

  “I would be grateful as well to be under your guidance,” Clifford said. “Sir Cera.” He nodded, then turned to the General. “As this matter has been settled, I must return to my belongings. They were pretty disorganised during my travel.”

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  “Yes, we have taken much of your time,” General said. “You should continue with your previous tasks.”

  Clifford nodded to the General. He quickly glanced at Cera before withdrawing outside, perhaps heading to his tent. Cera noticed a hint of reluctance in his eyes, but she dismissed it as nothing.

  Miller moved to escort Clifford but was stopped by the General. “Miller, let the boy escort himself back to his tent.” The General said, looking at Cera and Miller. “I need to discuss something with you both.”

  “Including me, General?” Cera asked.

  The General nodded. Cera and Miller glanced at each other and raised a brow. “What’s the issue, General?” Miller said.

  “You know the village Oakshaw?” He asked

  They shake their heads in unison.

  Thatcher frowned, narrowing his eyes. “A village located south of this camp, about twenty kilometres from here. It is surrounded by a large forest, making it easy for an ambush. We’ve sent around thirty to forty soldiers alternating from this camp to help with defences around the village. However… I’ve just received a report informing me that they’ve been attacked. They succeeded in stopping the attack, though not without suffering severe losses.”

  “How many casualties?” Miller interrupted.

  “Half of them are dead,” the General said.” And around fifteen soldiers were heavily injured. Leaving less than five soldiers from our unit and only a couple of dozen local soldiers from the village who could fight. You both are to be sent to Oakshaw Village to protect its citizens from any future attacks that may occur and watch over the medical treatment of our soldiers there. ”

  “We’re sending our medical team to the village also?” Cera asked. “Wouldn’t it be risky if they travelled to the village? The enemy soldiers would target them during the travel.”

  “That is quite concerning indeed.” General Thatcher paused. He looked to the ground to think of a solution. “The report also said that the enemy would have further control of the forest due to the village’s focus on restoring its defences. Their plan would certainly be to cut the town off from outside help. Meaning that travel would be difficult for average people, including the medical team.”

  “What if we hid them in carriages?” Miller said. “We could hide them between supply boxes in the carriage so they wouldn’t be seen, and it would give them some protection.”

  “That’s not bad.” Cera interrupted. “But, the carriages would still be targeted by archers. They wouldn’t just stop us from sending medical help. They would be preventing us from sending help at all to the village. And carriages would be too suspicious, they would shoot it down thinking it supplied food and weapons. They also no doubt attack the knights. However, we could probably ride as fast as we could before we receive any serious casualties.”

  “Then why don’t we do just that,” Miller said, pointing a finger at Cera.

  “Do what?” Cera asked. “Ride as fast as we can to Oakshaw? The medical team would be shot down, remember.”

  “But we could disguise the medical team with a soldier's uniform,” Miller intervened again. “Practically blending them one with the knights, at least, they wouldn’t target the medics specifically.”

  “Good idea, soldier,” Thatcher said. “However, that plan would mean you would need to disguise the nurses as soldiers, too. They would stand out from the group of male knights.”

  “Ah, mostly male,” Miller grinned, staring at Cera.

  The General looked at Miller. Then he looked at where Miller was staring. At Cera. “Oh, forgive me, Cera,” Thatcher said. “Sometimes I forget that you’re a woman also.”

  Cera flushed. “It’s okay, General. I’ll take that as a compliment.” She said. Cera smiled at the General and sent her gaze at Miller, glaring at him.

  Miller smiled gleefully. “General. Cera is a good example of what the disguise would do. Even while only wearing chainmail, she looks like just another knight from afar. Maybe she could tie the hair and cover it with a helmet. ”

  Cera blushed slightly and sent Miller another more intimidating glare. Warning him not to provoke her.

  General Thatcher examined Cera and nodded. “Yes, I guess it would work.” He said. “We could also have the medical team placed at the group's centre to provide some further protection. The General rubbed his beard in satisfaction.

  “It is settled then. I will send a group of soldiers and medics to head to Oakshaw with you. Good work, Miller. Cera. Head back to your stations and rest for now. I will notify you of your departure once I have assembled a group."

  Both of them nodded at the General. Miller left the tent first, exiting swiftly at the General’s orders. Cera went to leave as well but hesitated as she remembered something. “Excuse me, General,” She asked. “Are you also sending me to Oakshaw? Don’t I still have to train Lord Clifford? And not to mention my broken shoulder as well.”

  “You can train him in Oakshaw. It will be a good experience for him to learn defence tactics firsthand. Instead of just being told how it happens.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how I can contribute to this mission.”

  The General sighed. He looked at Cera and smiled softly. “Cera, have a little faith in yourself. While you may not be able to help guard the village directly. There are other ways for you to assist. I trust that you will find it.”

  Cera paused. Feeling somewhat relieved by the answer by the answer, she nodded at the General and exited the tent. Met with dark scenery around her, Cera adjusted her eyes to the. When she entered the tent, it was still the afternoon, when the sun basked the camp with its majestic orange hue. Now, it’s replaced by the flickering light of torches placed around the camp and the moon's dim light above.

  The change surprised her slightly. It didn’t feel like much time had passed when she was talking with the General and Miller. Cera was quite proud of herself for that discussion. Even though she didn’t make the plan to disguise the physicians, she did make sure they weren’t in immediate danger when travelling. But somehow, she feels tired, like her breath has become deep, long sighs, and her body wants to lie down and rest.

  Talking to many people and being forced to do something inconvenient has taken quite a toll on Cera’s body. And perhaps also because of her recently injured wound. She decided to rest for the night and headed to her tent.

  There are other things to figure out, such as how she would even teach Lord Clifford to become a knight. But all of that could wait another time. It couldn’t be hard to teach him, right? He’s already skilled in swordsmanship. What else does she need to do?

  ***

  Cera entered the tent. Unaware of why Clifford has asked her to come.

  She hasn’t started her training with Clifford as her squire yet. He didn’t seem eager to meet with her again, but maybe he had some questions. She hasn’t really spoken with him since that afternoon when General Thatcher introduced her to Clifford.

  “You wanted to meet with me, um, Clifford?” Cera asked, still uncomfortable with calling his name so casually.

  Clifford stood up from the bed. He sighed, looking slightly annoyed when meeting with Cera’s face.

  “Cere… I mean, Sir Cera, please, you do not need to train me as your squire.” He said flatly.