The Legend of Kathleen Everton

Moorefield, Arragonia. 15 years after the events of the first chapter.

The two swords clashed relentlessly in the field, over and over again. The young girl and her father had been training for at least two hours, and while the sun was shining upon their training, it was not too hot. The autumn weather delivered with it a brisk chill that kept the two on their feet; kept their minds sharp as they delivered their blows. The birds were still singing, and the autumn leaves were all kinds of lovely shades: emerald greens and burnt oranges, deep reds and crisp yellows. It was the bind to her sword that knocked the girl's mind out of her reverie and her sword out of her hand. Her father, Master Robert, laughed.

'You're getting distracted again, Kathleen,' he said, stopping to lean on his sword, looking at her intently.

'Forgive me, Father,' she replied. 'I was merely thinking.' The older man pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe the back of his neck and forehead from the sweat that had collected there, as the girl walked over to take a drink from the well nearby. She pulled the ladle out of the bucket, taking a deep sip of the cool, clear water.

'What were you thinking about?" he asked her.

'I can't help but think sometimes if there's more to life than just sword training, being a lady and living in a fancy house. I mean, you told me of the Everton family, the family that I come from. Aren't they supposed to be legendary warriors or something like that?' He took the ladle from her hands and dipped it into the bucket to give himself some water as well.

'I don't know your full destiny. Only the higher powers in this world do.'

'Like the High King?' she asked. 'Do you know if he's real?'

'I've got friends who say he's real, that he speaks to them himself. But I don't know for myself if he's actually real, Kathleen. I haven't seen him.' He took a sip from the ladle and put it back into the bucket. 'I think that might be enough for today. We've got to get ready for lunch. Your aunt Lady Allison is coming.' Kathleen groaned in exasperation, sheathing her sword and walking from the meadow with her father towards the house.

The two walked into the grand foyer of the house to see Kathleen's mother, Jade-Anne, and her sister, Kathleen's aunt Allison, chatting. When the two walked in, Jade smiled, but Allison remained frowning at Kathleen's appearance. The older woman sniffed haughtily, taking in the look of the girl with obvious disdain.

'Master Robert, your child should not be wearing trousers,' she said in an airy tone, her chin upturned. 'She smells of sweat and horse. Your daughter must be a lady, not a man.' Kathleen tried her very hardest to bite back a snarky comment.

'With all due respect, Lady Allison, Kathleen has been learning the art of swordsmanship ever since she was a child,' Robert replied as politely as he could.

'Sword fighting is a man's world. Your daughter must be learning sowing, cooking, how to play the harp and lyre, and reading. Not - rolling around in filth like a little boy.' Robert called over a servant.

'Please take Kathleen upstairs to have her bath and get her ready for lunch.'

'Right away, m'lord.' Kathleen gave her father her sword to put away and went upstairs with the servant.

'Come, Allison,' Jade-Anne spoke, trying to defuse the tension. 'Lunch should be ready in a few moments.' Lady Allison turned on her heel and strode towards the dining room with the couple.

The four sat around the large dining table, including Kathleen (wearing what her aunt Allison called more "appropriate clothing"), eating the lunch that had been prepared for them by the cooks in the kitchen.

'Robert, I have wonderful news,' Allison said, placing down her silverware and dabbing at her mouth with her napkin in a very proper manner. Kathleen's father soon put down his silverware and followed suit, while Kathleen and her mother kept eating.

'What is your news?'

'There is a young duke who is coming to Moorefield in three days time and as you know, I have connections with some of the nobility in the surrounding cities. This young duke is quite a young bachelor, but he is willing to take a wife. Of course, I told him of young Kathleen Everton and how she is almost of age to be married. He'll pay a handsome dowry for her hand in marriage.' At this, Kathleen stopped eating, her heart dropping to her stomach. Being married to a young duke might seem exciting for most girls, but to young Kathleen, it was the worst thing you could think of. It was almost as if you had gotten the news that you were moving to another place far, far away and would never be able to see your friends again.

She dreaded an arranged marriage. If she got married, she'd have to help cook and clean, raise the young duke's children and run the house while he was gone, off fighting battles and doing important things. And of course, she wanted nothing more than to fight wars and do those important things, not sitting around doing needlework and minding children.

'No,' she said quietly, placing down her silverware, but the mood was so tense and the room so quiet that everyone in that room heard her sound of defiance.

'Kathleen, my sweet, he is a handsome man with good connections and a great wealth. You will bear his children, tend his house, have servants, and you will be happy.' She threw her napkin down on the table and abruptly stood, shoving back her chair loudly.

'NO!' she shouted. 'I will not marry a man I don't love.' Allison gasped.

'This behavior is very unladylike of you. Very ungrateful. After everything your parents have done for you, raising you and loving you, the least you could do is secure a good future for yourself and them, not act like a spoiled child! Women don't go to wars and do important things. Women tend the house, they cook and they clean and mind children. That is an important enough job for a woman.'

'But what if I don't want to be a lady? What if I want to be a knight? Travel, see the world, and fight in wars? What if perhaps, I want to find love on my own terms?' The older woman stood, and abruptly slapped Kathleen across the face.

'You are a shame to your family, girl,' the woman spat. 'Ungrateful, spoiled child.' The girl bit her lip, trying not to cry, tears swimming in her eyes at the forcefulness of the slap. But at the same time, it wasn't so much the slap to the face as it was the words which her aunt had spoken to her. They cut her deep, like a knife. All she had ever wanted to do was repay her parents for taking her in, for loving her unconditionally. Somehow she felt she was letting them down by behaving this way. Her cheek was stinging, but her eyes were tearful - and angry. She stormed off, up the stairs, to her room.