Chapter Text
Fairs to celebrate the warmer months were common, people gathering to the capital's square to indulge in festivities, eat, drink and laugh. Jacobi on the other hand wasn't particularly fond of them, not ever since he stopped having the privilege of being a child, that being said not too old.
His parents used to take him to fairs in his hometown, when the bliss of his childhood ignorance of the world allowed him to have fun. His mother would dress him up in his good white button down shirt and take him by the hand through the festivities. The colours of the flags hung around the town were vibrant back then and the sound of song along with the smell of fresh food reaching his senses never failed to fill him with bubbling excitement.
He remembered gleefully watching the bards that used to gather at his town sing of heroic tales with a sweet baked good in his little hand, daydreaming of a day that he could be part of these songs. He would return home and play pretend with the small, wooden sword his father had made for him after he started messing around with the real ones hanging in his forge. He'd duel with the coat hanger until it was time for him to go to bed.
Those memories felt warm in the back of his mind, recollections of days better and warmer, conflicted how he both missed them and how he never wanted to return to that past. Nostalgia only served as poison in his heart when he used the fairs as an excuse to skip work, indulge in cheaper than average alcohol and return home black out drunk in the afternoon.
When had that little wooden sword turned into a steel one and the house's furniture into thugs behind the tavern in the middle of the night.
There was an unpleasant taste in Jacobi's mouth, his lips dry, stuck together. Forcing them apart, he took a deep breath and a swing of water in a desperate attempt to swallow the bile stuck in his throat that made every swig taste like rot. Kepler couldn't be there to give him a pep talk, on account of having to talk to the king but he could spot him amongst the crowd, sitting near the man with the crown and the big smile on his face. For a moment his eyes met Jacobi's and he felt that smile burning holes in his skull.
A shiver went down his spine.
His hands toyed with the fabric tied around his neck. A handkerchief given to him by Kepler just before they parted, light blue with a golden lining at the edges, the colours of his family's crest. They were so prominent around the house, blue curtains and rugs decorated with golden details, intricate designs painstakingly wooden into the expensive, dyed fabrics. The handkerchief was very plain compared to them but he still tied it around his neck, peeking under the chainmail and chestplate.
He wondered whether he was given this as a good luck charm, or if Kepler believed in luck in the first place. He certainly didn’t waste any breath wishing it upon him.
Jacobi didn't need luck either way, he needed to win with his own blood, sweat and tears.
‘You’ve got this Daniel. Either you make it or this freaky smile is the last thing you see. Yeah.. not discomforting at all.’
***
Sitting up high, higher than the common crowd, where he could feel a still chilly breeze on his face would have been relaxing, but Kepler barely had a laid back day in months. One could argue it had been years but he’d argue back that he was in fact as carefree a man as he was composed and hardworking. That day though, amongst most of the court betting amongst each other whether Jacobi would live to see another day; even he could admit to himself that the stress was slowly sharpening its teeth on his skull.
Anxiety of how he would appear, the strategic genius amongst them, if his move had cost the king a move on the board. How embarrassing it would feel to have something pried off of his hands like a child being disciplined. How his bold stunt of trying to assert himself could actually cost Jacobi his life. At first he was far more willing to sacrifice it to king Cutter’s insatiable need for control and gamble it for his own. Spending more time with him changed that though, a change he partially regretted for making his unwavering confidence in himself…well..waver.
A few duels took place before it was Jacobi's turn. All the while king Cutter’s chatter was keeping him hostage from taking a breather, telling him about new trade route opportunities with countries overseas. Keeping up with a conversation and maintaining his composure was hardly ever a problem for him, but his attention kept wandering to Jacobi, to where he was sitting just outside the arena. He looked deep in though, eyes glued to the stone and grass that grew through its cracks at his feet. The wind picked up and carried away the cheers and laughter of the people but Jacobi's thoughts were anchored deep within him.
He was going to do great…He had to.
Then his turn came. Jacobi walked up against his first opponent. In front of a knight in full armour, sword at the ready, he looked underdressed. He decided to wear half of his equipment, only his breastplate above the chainmail along with the pieces on his arms and legs. Definitely not how the knight of a man in power should appear.
The king was already looking amused, he smiled at Kepler, like a shark that had already smelled blood in the water.
Kepler had faith in Jacobi though. Being self taught he fought differently. Dirty. He was limber in his movements, what he lacked in dedicated training, he more than made up for it with how fast he was.
That was the reason he had chosen to limit his armour pieces.
He saw how he crossed swords that night. Kepler had some business at the cathedral in the capital, sent by the king. His work there had taken him a lot more than usual, the sun was already setting when his carriage had arrived at the church and by the time he bid the bishop goodbye he was met with the cold night’s wind. When he arrived back at the carriage his knight at the time was lying dead on the street and the men responsible were rummaging through it.
Of course Kepler had been taught the basics of swordfight, he was even good at it, but he wasn't in the habit of carrying a weapon, especially when he was going to enter a church.
His face was met with the wall fast while one of them had already taken his fancy coat and put it over his shoulders. For a moment he really thought he was a goner. There was no way they were going to let him leave with his life after they stripped him of anything he had on him worth a pretty penny.
Jacobi was stumbling through the same street looking ragged and tired, a scrawny tall man with burns covering his face and arms. He was warned to hurry along unless he wanted to meet the same fate as him, however didn't seem to take lightly to the threats. Even though he barely made it out with his head on his shoulders, he had managed to leave a stab wound in each of them.
“You ok?”
He had leaned over the opposite wall.
“Better than you, that's for sure.”
He was battered and grasping a cut on his side.
“Uuuh…sorry about…your carriage…and…him..”
“Yeah, quite a shame about him.”
“Were you…close?”
“No..just business, clear and simple. A bodyguard.”
“Wow, your own bodyguard… you're that rich huh.”
“You have no idea who I am, do you? Or are you that intoxicated?”
“Both sir. New in town.”
He wiped the blood off of his bruised nose.
“New in town huh. And what's the name of the man I owe my life to?”
“Daniel.. Daniel Jacobi, blacksmith.”
“Warren Kepler, of the king's court.”
He shook his hand even though it was bloody
“The king's -”
“Now let's get you cleaned up mister Jacobi, I think I have a proposal for you.”
Jacobi put his helmet on and drew his sword. The match didn't last long, they rarely ever did. His opponent made the grave mistake to underestimate Jacobi with how much thinner and less shielded he was. It all ended with the other knight’s sword flying off of his hand onto the other side of the field and Jacobi pointing at him with the edge of his blade.
It was something he had made an art, disarming his opponent one way or another.
The evening was filled with the sound of clashing metal, dust rising in the air and the cheers of the people watching. Jacobi managed to win his two matches, gaining more confidence with each one. The way he fought was wild to watch, the way he threw himself onto his opponents with violent swings, compared to the trained knights' careful and calculated moves, his seemed erratic and unpredictable. There was so much anger behind them, rage moving his limbs like invisible puppet strings. Catching them by surprise, making them fall back and eventually lose.
The king's chosen knight didn't fight in any other duel, a smart move on Cutter's part to keep him well rested and focused on observing Jacobi. Anything to take him down as swiftly as possible in order to make his point.
A loud noise pulled him out of his thoughts and Kepler watched Jacobi headbut his opponent, the shock causing him to drop his weapon. While the other knight scrambled to pick it up again, however, he decided to let his soleret find its way to his side with a kick and a loud clang.
“Well! That's… new.”
Cutter joked next to him. Kepler could only nod as he watched Jacobi win by kicking him to the ground.
“Are you listening Warren?”
“Of course your highness, about the advisor.”
“Yes, it'll take her a while to arrive in the capital, a couple of loose ends to tie up and the journey here of course, it'll take a couple of months.”
“That is…understandable.”
“Ah, it's time!”
The knight Kepler had been keeping an eye on slowly entered the makeshift stage, he planted his feet to the ground proudly with every step before he stopped a few metres away from Jacobi. The front of the armour was decorated with the kingdom's crest in purple fabric, with luscious mauve plumage on the helmet.
He turned around and bowed to the king.
***
Jacobi couldn't see the man's face behind the visor, but the feeling of the vile smile hidden under it made him seethe in anger. This man knew the stakes and was going to take immense satisfaction in sending him to an early grave. The arrogance with which he carried himself drove Jacobi's blood to a boiling point, hot in his veins, setting his entire body ablaze.
Once the duel started he put that rage to good use, bringing his blade down fast, with no mercy, giving him no time to move against him. Wipe that smile off his face for good.
His speed and the aggressive manner in which he fought was the only advantage he'd ever had in that fight.
Swords clashed.
“What do you think Jacobi?”
In front of him was standing a full set of armour. Shiny metal with beautiful designs carved into the breastplate and helmet, screwed and strapped together and worn onto a rack for display. It was as tall as him, made to his measures and it stared back, as if it were an ominous reflection of a man he could have been in another lifetime.
“It's impressive work.”
“High praise coming from a blacksmith.”
“No..I specialise in weapons. Can't say I know anything about… the defensive crafts.”
“Right. Then what's your opinion on the sword that came with it?”
Kepler motioned at the blade sheathed at the armour's side, hanging from a leather belt. Carefully drawing it out, Jacobi weighted it on his hands. It was by all means a beautiful sword, polished until the sunlight reflected off its sides. Jacobi ran a thumb over the edge. Sharp. Yet he felt it didn't fit in his hand, his grip was so used to hammers and heavy tools, he felt as if the blade he held was going to slip off of his hands.
“Hmmm. Not bad but.. not quite to my taste though. Very light.”
“Maybe when you're not as busy you can make one to your own liking.”
“I- uhhh… make..another one..yeah.”
With a horrible, metallic screech Jacobi watched in horror as the sword, too light for his hands, was knocked out of his hands and rolled away from him. The weapon never felt good in his hands, even though he managed well with it so far, sitting between his fingers felt uncomfortable, impossibly wrong. Far lighter than his hands were used to holding, the death grip he had on the leather on the handle couldn't make up for the deficit weight. Not being allowed to be even near a forge in the capital, he never got to replace it. One wrong move was all it needed.
Jacobi wasn't far behind it, falling onto the ground in a cloud of dust. The impact of his body hitting the ground cut his breath short for a moment. While he struggled to take in some air, his heart beat so hard in his chest he could hear it echo inside his helmet. Curly hair strands were stuck onto his damp forehead and got into his eyes. His body was tired, dragged down by the amount of metal he wore, even after three months he still hadn't gotten completely used to it.
He had fallen down before, he would be knocked down every day for the past three and a half months, for twenty five years. He was far from a stranger to the feeling. He just had to get up once again.
‘Get up Daniel.’
Determination, deeply rooted in his chest, stirred, pulling on each tired muscle in his body. He had to find the strength to keep going against the protests of his limbs.
Grabbing a handful of the dirt from the ground, Jacobi threw it towards the opening of the knight's helmet. The man blurted out a scream and from the shock of not being able to see, he lost the grip on his own sword and took a step back, allowing Jacobi to make his move. First propping himself on one knee, then lunging at him. He wrestled him into the ground, armour pieces clashing with each other in a horrible cacophony contrasting the cheerful music the rest of the fair was filled with. Jacobi could barely hear the crowd gasp and gawk in shock over the sound.
The king's pride and joy didn't seem to go down easily either. Once recovered from the initial shock he managed to throw Jacobi off of him and on his back. He, however, didn't make an attempt to tackle him, he tried to get up, taking his helmet off to rub the dust off of his eyes.
There was an opportunity for him and Jacobi saw it immediately, to chase after his blade while he had a few precious seconds without the knight's eyes on him. It wasn’t too far, with a few misaligned steps he reached out and held it in his hands again. With blade in hand before his opponent had recovered completely, he had the upper hand. While he was still low on the ground he aimed and stabbed at the back of his knee where the armour didn't cover it. Blood spilled on the ground and the knight fell on his knees.
Jacobi, after struggling to get himself back on his feet, stood over him victorious. A victory that was far from clean, sweat ran down his temples, spit had spilled over from his mouth and his helmet had been sprayed with blood. He wouldn't have realised how much he had screamed if it weren't for his sore throat, every heavy breath violently scratching and burning it up.
After a few moments of silence he was declared the winner.
“ What were you thinking!”
Jacobi barely had the energy to throw even a half baked answer at Kepler's way.
“Wh…what?”
“He was one of the king's knights. That was a tournament not a duel to the death but you had to go and make sure he'll never walk properly again!”
Jacobi's stare was empty and strained but also filled with newfound dumbfoundedness.
“You. Needed me. To win.”
“This man can never pick up anything other than a cane anymore Jacobi!”
“I. Won.”
“He can have you executed just for ruining something he is fond of!”
“I won because you asked me to! ”
Kepler paused, face tense with more words threatening to spill out, but he reigned his tongue for a minute to let him finish that line of thought.
“That's my job right? You say the word and I don't ask questions, I draw my sword and then I sit on one knee, I do as I'm told! And I did, I held this useless sheet of metal and fought in your name.”
He paused, closing his eyes and facing away to the ground.
Can you…can you at least congratulate me.. Please.”
He heard Kepler let out a deep sigh.
“...Well, you did as I asked. You did good, Jacobi.”
“Thank you.”
“What a touching scene. Truly congratulations are in order Daniel.”
There he was. The man of royalty that had been looming over him for three whole months, speaking in an eerily calm voice and addressing him by his first name.
”Your highness!”
Kepler nearly choked.
“No need to get jumpy Warren, I'm just here to take a look at your little champion.”
His attention never left Jacobi.
“You did quite a number on one of my favourite knights, Daniel.”
Jacobi could feel the colour draining from his face as he held his breath but never breaking eye contact.
“Hm…Ruthless, not holding back and a quite unorthodox way of approaching a fight.. I was wrong; you're a rather interesting individual. You'll do well serving my good friend here, right Warren?”
“Of course.”
“As my end of the bargain, you will be officially appointed a knight. Hmmm…Tonight seems appropriate, wouldn't you say Daniel.”
“Uuuuh… yes? Your highness.”
“Excellent! I will see you both at tonight's ceremony.”
With those words the king made his exit, leaving both of them shocked and silent.
“That went…well… I get to keep my head after all.”
“You are certainly lucky the king took interest in you.”
“Hah, how can he not with my undeniably charming aura.”
“Easy now Jacobi.”
He voiced the warning in a serious tone but Jacobi caught a glimpse of an involuntary smirk on his face.
The ceremony was a blur. His body was still bruised and in pain, barely holding himself upwards and counting the seconds until he could let it crash on his bed. Sitting on one knee, the king's sword touched his shoulders while the musicians played delicate notes on their instruments and all Jacobi could see were the flames back at the stone fireplace in his room. It consumed his majesty’s face, tongues of fire wrapping around his crown.
“Recite the oath.”
Jacobi closed his eyes and let the words he had memorised roll off his tongue.
"To be a knight in shining armour and worthy of your title.
To bring honour to the Kepler household.
And protect my lord."