The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 638: Sir Ollie’s Surname (Part Three)

"Can you break up fights without hurting people?" Ollie had asked one summer afternoon when Daithi approached him, asking if there was more that he could do than working as a laborer helping to build the village. Hauling stones and timber was honest work that required a strong body, but compared to ’monsters’ like the men from the Clan of the Great Claw or the dextrous builders from the Clan of Painted Masks, it was hard to feel like accomplished much, or that he was making the best use of the skills he’d developed while serving under Lord Owain’s banner.

"It’s getting crowded in the village," Ollie explained. "And some people don’t know how to get along yet. The Clan of Painted Masks steal from each other like it’s a game but they don’t always understand when the thing they’ve stolen is an irreplaceable treasure to the Heartwood Clan and some people are still terrified of the Night Weaver Clan because of their poisons," he said, shaking his head and letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Everyone’s doing their best, but when there are misunderstandings, it can get a little out of hand," Ollie said helplessly. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

"So you want me to keep folks separated when they get heated?" Daithi asked, envisioning himself as someone like a strongman at a soldier’s bar. He’d seen such men carrying leather saps filled with sand and had fallen victim to their ’direct’ methods more than once as a young man, but he could appreciate the need for that in a place as chaotic as the new village felt at times. "I can do that."

"Good," Ollie said with a tired smile. "I’ll talk to Marshal Jakob about the laws in the Vale and what you need to know to be a Constable," he said, sounding relieved, as if the decision about how to handle this problem had been weighing on him for several days. "I don’t really think we should build a jail, but if you need a place for people to cool their heads or stay separate while you sort things out, tell me and we can think of something..."

"C-constable?" Daithi asked as he struggled to keep up with what Ollie was saying. Constables were rare in human villages, though a few had been appointed in the oldest of villages close to Lothian City as they grew large enough to be considered small towns. It might not be a position in the aristocracy like becoming a knight, nor did it offer a path to becoming a knight the way becoming a squire would but it was still a position of significant power within the walls of the village where the constable served and he would have the power to use the force of arms to enforce the village’s rules and keep the peace.

"How can you make me a constable?" the former Lothian soldier asked, feeling that there were surely villagers here who would be better suited to such an important position. "I’m just a common soldier. Maybe I could work for your constable, if, if you think there’s enough to be done to need two people keeping the peace but, aren’t there people here who already know the rules and laws of the Eldritch people who would be better at this?"

"Sure, there are other people, but you’re like me, Daithi," Ollie said, looking at the older man as though he’d seen a kindred soul. "Whether it’s the Painted Masks or the Glass Eyed Clan, the Night Weavers or the Great Claw, you’re outside all of that. You don’t belong to any of the villages that disbanded to come here, and you don’t belong to the clans that are already here. I’d been thinking of asking Milo to help, but he’s busy as a scout for Commander Bassinger, so I thought maybe you would be willing to take up the duty..."

"We should have been enemies," Daithi told the people in the great hall. "I served Lord Owain as one of his soldiers, and Ollie is more loyal to Lady Ashlynn than anyone I know. It should have been impossible for him to trust me so much, but he did. He did, and he helped me find a place to be more than just a lost soldier in search of a home."

At the table where Daithi sat, the scaled woman exchanged puzzled glances with the soldier from the Golden Eyed clan as they listened to one piece of ’testimony’ after another. Everyone spoke of this ’Ollie’ in voices that were filled with gratitude, respect and admiration but none of them spoke of his strength, his victories or the enemies they’d defeated.

"That’s it?" the scaled woman said softly. "He has gone from servant in the kitchens to the leader of the village, and not once has he defeated an enemy in battle? I thought the people of the Vale were proud of the wars they fought against these Lothians and their Church..."

"You don’t understand, Dalmatia," Neridia said, leaning over to place a scaled hand on her friend’s shoulder. She and both of her friends had donned their best fur-lined cloaks for this evening in the Vale of Mist,s but she could tell that the cold had left her friends feeling irritable and eager to return to their rooms where they had roaring fires in the hearth and heated stones to wrap their tails around. But unlike her two friends, Neridia heard something entirely different in the stories these people told. Something far more important than rushing back to their rooms to warm themselves against the chill!

"Did you hear it, husband?" she said, tugging on Beilan’s fur-lined cloak. "Her Dominion didn’t deceive us in High Fen City when she said that you would be rewarded even without achieving merits in battle. This man, he rules over a village, not because he fought in an arena to prove that there were no stronger defenders, but because he helped build it up with his own hands and fed its people."

"He’s still a powerful witch, my love," Beilan said with a shake of his head. "He’s a powerful protector for his people, even if he never fought to prove it."

"But he wasn’t a witch when he built his village," Neridia insisted. "He was simple and ordinary, but the things he did are being hailed here as great deeds. So what about us? What could we do that would be considered great deeds here? I’m sure that if we put our minds to it, we can come up with much more than just feeding the people in order to earn Her Dominion’s recognition..."

"Well Ollie," Ashlynn said warmly, silencing the hall once the last person had finished speaking in support of the young witch. "It’s clear that you have lived up to your virtues while I was gone. You have given comfort and aid to people in need, and it is clear that you have shown great strength and courage of conviction to build such loyalty among so many people, so quickly."

"Therefore, it is my judgment that you be raised to the station of a knight," Ashlynn said with a warm smile. "As the second witch of my coven, you are the Cypress Witch, so as I knight, you will also bear the title of the Cypress Knight. Can you accept this honor, Sir Ollie, and the burdens and duties that come with it?" Ashlynn asked formally.

"I can, my lady," Ollie said around the lump that formed in his throat. "Ever since we escaped from the Summer Villa together, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be a knight who serves at your side. No honor could be greater."

"Then, as a knight, you are allowed to choose a surname," Ashlynn said warmly. "This name will be yours and may be passed down to all of your descendants. It will be the name for your family and your noble house, remembered for all time as the first noble house to swear to serve me. Have you chosen a name you would like to use?"