[color=79D867]"Promise me this, Dal- beyond your preconceptions, beyond acquired dispositions, beyond how the others may treat you, you will help protect them with your life. You're an Eborum boy, you don't try, you [i]do[/i]. You've a stable shield hand, I believe in you."[/color] 

The balding man who sat across the table- his name was Dane- was giving the young man a piercing stare. 

[color=C7AA7D]"I will tr-"[/color] Dal caught himself. Cleared his throat. 

[color=C7AA7D]"I will, Dane. I promise you."[/color]

[color=79D867]"Atta' boy."[/color] He tipped his head back, beads of sweat plopping onto the plate beneath him and mixing with the droplets of alcohol that had fallen off the cup. It was stuffy, as usual, in the tavern. Taking a long swig, Dane clamped the mug back down and found Dal's eyes again. The young man had never seen Dane so intense- the rosy-cheeked and pot-bellied man often simply [i]exhumed[/i] an air of lightheartedness and compassion, traits not only Dal, but most who knew the man were quick to associate with him. That was a bonus of always throwing out quips and telling funny stories, when you wanted people to [i]seriously[/i] listen to you, they would. Dal was so used to seeing the man's smile- to have Dane present anything less was almost unsettling. Dal had to consciously hold his gaze, else he would have broken and looked away. 

[color=C7AA7D]"Look, Dane. Before I go, I just wanted to say thanks, for what you've done- takin' time out of your schedule to check up on my father. Means an awful lot you'd stick your neck out for a middle-class farmboy."[/color] 

[color=79D867]"Eh, don't mention it. Your father's a good man, behind all the gruff. You know, I never told you and I doubt your father did, either, but there were many a time that in the winter he'd purchase our firewood for us."[/color] Dal knew where this was going; Dane was probably trying to segue into a story, as he liked to try and "subtly" do. 

[color=C7AA7D]"I mean no disrespect, Dane, but the caravan-"[/color] 

[color=79D867]"Easy, boy, there's a point to this. See, regardless of his attitude and mannerisms, [i]those[/i] are the types of memories of him that'll stick with us. Think on that."[/color]

The two sat in silence as the conversations around them were dimming down to a low murmur; Dal's final breakfast in the walls of Arrvern was coming to a close. The tavern, Earl's Casque, had been depressingly empty the last week or so, but today Dal was happy to finally have some company with his breakfast- fried potatoes and pork sausage with a tomato, his staple since moving into the city. He dearly missed eating at home, on the farm, with their own ingredients, all gathered around their small table, but it was frankly pointless to dwell on those memories, especially now. Finally, Dane stood, retrieving Dal's saber and shield, silently clasping the wooden aegis to Dal's strap on his back and thrusting the sheathed blade into his hand.

[color=79D867]"You say goodbye to your mother?"[/color]

[color=C7AA7D]"Of course. Just before I came here."[/color]

[color=79D867]"Good. You'd best be goin'- you've never been one to be late, but that wouldn't be a hobby to start now."[/color]

Dal's heart swelled as he clasped the soldier's forearm as he did the same. With a smile and a knowing nod, Dalsarad pledged his thanks one final time before stepping out into the empty streets. 

[hr]

Dalsarad tugged on his travel cloak as he drew closer to the caravan. His cloak, which served little more than a glorified blanket or cape, as it had no hood, had once been a brilliant red color. Now, through age and general wear and tear, it was closer to a maroon. Dal thought of this as he glanced at a pleasant display of color among the different cloaks worn by the denizens of the caravan. They reminded him of the summer, when their farm was awash of different shades of red, green, brown, and orange. 

Dal refocused himself, it seemed the caravan was reaching its ready point. Swallowing his anxiety and and reassuring himself by thinking of Dane's words, he positioned himself towards the back end of the caravan. Seemed he couldn't be afforded the luxury of a horse, as opposed to the young woman he stood next to- not that Dal particularly cared. He'd only ridden one a few times when he finished his work before his father, and was rewarded a moments rest atop a horse that hauled the bigger plow. Dal had never even touched one when they lived in Blue Lake or Rowanwood.

His gaze shifted from the horse to its rider- a girl likely younger than he, though Dal guessed he was probably one of the oldest to still be considered "youth". Her brown curls fell down to he shoulders and she wore a chaperon, shrouding most of her face. Dal gave a small smile and nodded, but said nothing. Wasn't even sure if she saw him, to be honest. The entire caravan was quieter than he expected, save for lowered chatter between small parties. 

[i]You will help protect them with your life.[/i] Dane's words resonated in his head. 

Dal hefted his shield on his back and made sure his saber was secure against his hip; adjusted the small metal plates on the elbows of his jack.

[color=C7AA7D]"I will."[/color] Dal whispered to himself.