It hadn’t been difficult to guess that Ronan’s approval meant a lot to Arien, so he tried to compliment his young apprentice whenever he could. It was awkward for him at first, since he had no experience in encouraging anyone, let alone a youth. But it had grown easier over the months. And every compliment was an honest one.

“If I can be only half as skilled as you, Master Culley, I shall be happy.” Arien sighed wistfully. “I almost hate that they will take it away. It should be yours to keep.” He touched the edge of the leather wrap that held the sword, obviously both curious and afraid of the weapon.

Ronan turned away quickly so that Arien wouldn’t see the selfish longing to hold on to the sword in his own expression. “They are to arrive this morning to take the sword and I shall start something new.”

“Something I can help with?” Arien asked eagerly and Ronan smiled without looking back at the boy. He could not help but to enjoy Arien’s enthusiasm. It was what he had come to enjoy; having someone love the work as much as he did.

“Perhaps.” He nodded. “I think you are ready for something larger than daggers and kitchen knives.” A shadow fell over the room, blocking out the sun. Ronan turned to find a man wearing royal colors standing in the doorway.

“Good day to you, sir,” Ronan greeted but the man only slumped sideways. It was then that Ronan noticed the large crimson stain that covered the royal guard’s left side.

“Master Culley,” Arien whispered, his blue eyes rounding in the same instant that Ronan also realized the man was injured.

“Go for a healer…in town…hurry.” Ronan moved forward to slide a strong shoulder beneath the man’s arm and half drag him back outside and toward the house. One glance over his shoulder and he was relieved to find Arien racing toward the road as he was told.

“Hold on. The boy will bring someone to help you,” Ronan offered when the man groaned with pain.