Knight Training Manual chpt 2 Where the Road Ends part 2/2

“About time,” a voice muttered.

Maren’s eyes cracked open to find the guard leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on her. The girl from home sat on a stool beside the cot, brown hair pulled back, a faint smile tugging at her mouth.

“You passed out,” the girl said, not unkindly. “Twice, actually.”

The guard grunted. “Name’s Rylan,” he said. “And this one’s Brienne. Next time you think about skipping sleep for four days and then running yourself half to death, maybe don’t.”

Brienne pressed a canteen into her hand.

“Water,” she said. “Slow, or you’ll regret it.”

Maren tilted the canteen and drank greedily, the warm, metallic taste hitting her tongue like relief. Brienne’s hand brushed her wrist, firm but not rough, easing the canteen back down.

“Slow,” Brienne repeated, softer this time. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Maren blinked at her, then let the canteen rest in her lap, her breath steadying as the water burned a trail down her dry throat.

“You’ll be sore,” Rylan said, pushing off the wall, his tone still flat. “Tomorrow. The day after. Hell, maybe the rest of the week. But you’ll live.”

Maren dragged in a slow breath, her voice rasping. “Thanks,” not quite sure if it was for the water or the warning.

Brienne studied her, “You should’ve said something,” she said quietly. “Back in the yard. You looked ready to drop.”

Maren shook her head. “Didn’t want to,” she said. Her voice cracked on the second word, but she didn’t look away. “Not after everything.”

Brienne’s fingers twitched against her knee, as if she might reach out again, but she didn’t. She only nodded.

“Get some rest,” Rylan said, already turning toward the door. “Training waits for no one. You want to keep up, start by not collapsing next time.”

He left without another word, his boots heavy on the dirt. The flap shut behind him, leaving only the quiet hum of the medic’s tent and the faint sound of camp beyond. Maren let her head tip back against the thin pillow, her arms heavy at her sides.

“Let me see your hands,” Brienne said.

Maren hesitated but held them out, palms up. The linen was darkened with sweat and dirt, the salve beneath it gone tacky. Brienne eased the bandages loose, careful not to pull too hard, and set them aside in a neat roll.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her fingers steady as they worked over the raw skin, the blisters split and angry along the base of Maren’s thumbs.

“Only when I breathe,” Maren muttered, a ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Brienne’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but she didn’t look up. “Forge burns don’t mix well with yard drills,” she said quietly, dipping the cloth into the cool basin at her side. “You should’ve told someone.”

“Wouldn’t have changed anything,” Maren said. She hissed when the wet cloth touched her palm but didn’t pull away.

“Maybe not,” Brienne said. She worked the cloth gently, clearing away grime and sweat, her touch steady but careful. “But you don’t have to make it worse.”

Maren didn’t answer. She let the quiet fill the space, the soft rasp of cloth on skin, the faint drip of water back into the basin.

When Brienne finished with her hands, she set them carefully in Maren’s lap, then nodded toward her arm. “Let me see the burn.”

Maren pushed back her sleeve, revealing the angry red of skin still healing. Brienne’s brow furrowed as she smoothed fresh salve over it, her fingers light, almost hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how much weight Maren could take.

Brienne tied off the last bandage and sat back, her expression unreadable. The clean linen looked stark against Maren’s skin.

Without a word, Brienne gathered the tin of salve and the used cloth, folding each piece with practiced care before sliding them back into the small kit at her feet. The silence stretched,  until she straightened and slung the strap of the kit over her shoulder.

“Rest,” she said “The sergeant’s already signed you off training for two days. Take it.”

Maren blinked, startled. “Two days?”

Brienne didn’t meet her eyes. “You collapse in the yard, you get pulled. That’s the rule. Don’t fight it.” She paused at the tent flap, fingers brushing the canvas. “Eat. Sleep. Then come back ready.”

And then she was gone, the flap falling closed behind her, leaving Maren in the muted quiet of the medic’s tent.

The first day crawled. She slept until the sun was high, but it didn’t help; her body ached in places she hadn’t known could hurt, every muscle stiff and clumsy. By afternoon, the tent felt too small, the air thick , the murmur of the medic working at the far end. She slipped outside, easing herself down onto the wooden stool, her bandaged hands resting in her lap.

The camp moved steady around her, the drills in the yard, the hiss of the forge being set up, the distant calls of the men working the stables. It was the kind of noise that let her mind wander. She watched the recruits run the same circuit she’d done, some steady, others already faltering. She didn’t know which one she’d be when she stepped back in.

“You look less like death today.”

Maren turned, squinting up at the shape leaning against the post. Rylan. Arms crossed, expression as flat as ever, but his gaze steady on her like he was weighing something.

“Feel less like it,” she muttered.

His mouth twitched , “Good. Means you’ll be back in the yard soon. You can’t learn anything sitting still.” He tipped his chin toward the running recruits. “They’re not waiting for you to catch up.”

Maren huffed out a quiet breath. “Didn’t expect them to.”

Rylan studied her for another moment, then pushed off the post. “Good. Keep it that way. And eat something.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked away, boots crunching on the dirt until the sound faded into the hum of camp.

By the second evening, restlessness sat sharp under her skin. She couldn’t stand the tent anymore, so she found a quiet spot near the cookfires, close enough to catch the smell of whatever passed for dinner but far enough from the tables to avoid the noise. Her hands itched to do something, polish a blade, hammer a nail, anything , but the bandages made clumsy work.

“You’ll starve, sitting over here like that.”

Brienne’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Maren glanced up to find her standing there, a dented tin plate in one hand and an arched brow that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. She didn’t wait for permission, just sat down beside her and set the plate in Maren’s lap.

“Eat,” Brienne said, her tone brisk.

Maren eyed the mess, something gray and thick that might’ve been stew, then took the spoon. “You always this bossy?”

Brienne’s mouth twitched. “Only when someone looks like they’re about to fall over.” She didn’t look at her as she spoke, just stretched her legs out and leaned back on her hands, her gaze following the distant drill lines as the last of the day’s training wound down.

They sat in silence for a while, the clatter of camp life filling the space between them. Like the hum of the forge on a long day.