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If Will didn’t have anxiety coursing through his veins, he supposed he’d feel a bit befuddled—maybe even offended—at the lack of decorum from his Commandant, who sat at the little table next to Halt, skimming through Will’s official certification like he had other places to be and was running late.
As it was, Will could barely catch every other word, his heart was hammering so loudly in his ears.
“So basically,” Crowley said, flipping through a few more pages with barely a cursory glance, “you are in all ways ready to assume the position and authority of a fully operational Ranger in the Kingdom of Araluen. Correct?” Crowley’s sharp eyes looked up at Will.
With a jolt, Will realized that was his cue to answer. “Correct. Yes. I mean… I do. I am. Yes.”
Crowley glanced to Halt with a raised eyebrow, and Will thought he caught the shine of fondness in Halt’s eyes. His neck heated in embarrassment, but he refused to look away from his Commandant.
This was the day he’d been waiting for. He’d been anticipating his graduation for five years, but for this…
For recognition, for official induction into a new home, a new family…
He’d been waiting for that for much longer.
“Well,” Crowley went on. “Good for you. So…one other detail. You know we need to give you more of a title than Ranger Will, because there are three other Wills in the Corps.”
Yes, he’d been expecting as much. He pinched his fingers in his lap in a nervous habit.
There was the familiar twist of his gut at the thought of the word orphan. Even though he now knew where he came from, even though he had a place to belong, he’d grown up with the sinking untethered sensation that came from being “Just Will”. It was a feeling he wasn’t sure he’d ever outgrow.
But he’d been thinking about taking a surname for years, slowly narrowing in on what exactly he would choose.
He pinched his fingers.
Crowley was saying, “It’s not a problem that applies to Halt, of course, because there’s only one Halt. Normally we’d use your family name but you were an orphan. So in your case, we looked for a name that reflected your achievements—”
“Actually,” Will interrupted, “I had thought… I’ve been thinking about this.”
“Well that makes things easier,” Crowley said, straightening. “Go on, let’s hear it.”
Will pinched his fingers, the pressure turning his skin bone white.
“I was hoping to take O’Carrick,” Will said. His anxiety over the question pushed the words out faster than he had intended, so that they blurted out in a rush instead of the confident request he’d intended it to be.
For a moment, silence reigned in the cabin. Will felt his ears burn as Crowley blinked in surprise.
“Oh,” Crowley said finally. He looked to Halt, almost nervous. “That’s… Hmm.”
Will expected Halt to blanch, or maybe even…maybe soften. A look that wasn’t quite a smile but was so Halt that it fit even better than a grin ever could. He feared a frown, the drawing together of Halt’s bushy eyebrows as his brow furrowed in disapproval.
But Halt remained unreadable as ever—and somehow, Will felt that was worse.
Perhaps sensing that Halt wasn’t about to answer, Crowley shuffled his papers and tried to smooth over the awkwardness of the situation. “I suppose it could be done. It’s just… Well, not exactly unexpected. I hadn’t, personally, expected it, but in hindsight—”
“Crowley,” Halt interrupted.
The Commandant actually looked relieved at the interruption. “I’ll step outside for a moment. Let you two…talk…think it over.”
And with that, Crowley hastily gathered his papers and slipped out of the cabin, quiet as a mouse (a sure sign that he was eavesdropping outside).
But Will didn’t care. He kept glancing to Halt’s face, trying to read his expression, and upon failing to read his mentor, he would look down at the table, hoping the ground would suddenly swallow him whole.
He shouldn’t have asked. Damn, he shouldn’t have asked. Now everything was awkward, and it shouldn’t have been. Today was supposed to be a good day, with pomp and circumstance and congratulations.
And yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret asking. Not totally. Because yes, picking a last name was something he’d been anticipating his whole life… But up until a few years ago, he hadn’t been sure of what he wanted. Boarkiller had, actually, crossed his mind.
After spending months in Skandia, he knew what name he wanted most. He knew the legacy he wanted to carry on, the family he wanted to come home to. And after Skandia, after Arrida, after all these years of training and war and adventure, traveling the world with the most important person to him, he’d thought that there was no way he’d be denied this one request.
Halt took a deep breath, watching with a controlled calm that Will wished he could mimic. “First, were you being serious?”
“Of course I was,” Will said quickly. “You know I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t joke about something so personal. Not about this.”
Halt grunted noncommittally—a sound anyone else would have interpreted as a sign of suspicion, but Will knew Halt better than that. He was just processing the information, taking his time to choose his next words with care.
After a minute, Halt asked, “Why did you ask for my name?”
Will blanched. Why? Why even ask the question? All these years of caring guidance, diligent training, quiet nights by the fire in their small cabin, fresh mornings with the sizzle of bacon and twin mugs of coffee sweetened with honey, long afternoons of practicing archery and knife-throwing in the meadow, racing Tug and Abelard back from Castle Redmont like they were chasing and outrunning time all at once…
“Isn’t it obvious?” Will asked. The words came out broken, soft and brittle.
Because there was nothing in the world more obvious to Will. To the point where he couldn’t even imagine himself asking for a different surname.
Finally, Halt sighed. “I had… I thought you might ask for this. But Will…” He trailed off with a frown, recollected himself, and started again. “I intend for my name to die with me.”
Will frowned. “But… Lady Pauline—”
“Remains Pauline Du Lacy,” Halt interrupted, as kindly as he could manage. “At my request.”
“But…why?” Will asked. “Why would you want to be…”
“Alone?” Halt guessed—correctly.
Will cringed at how it sounded, spoken aloud. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.
“I should think not,” Halt said stiffly. “I’m a married man, you know. I won’t be alone for a long time.”
At the joke, Will tried to offer a smile, but it fell flat. Halt’s rejection, though softened somewhat, still stung. He just…hadn’t considered that he would be denied. He’d thought all he needed to do was gather the courage to ask…
He’d thought it was obvious.
Wordlessly, Halt extended his hand. Will took it, the calluses in his mentor’s palm so familiar. Fragments of memories brushed against Will’s mind, glimpses of Halt guiding him through combat exercises and the like.
“My name…” Again, Halt trailed off and started over. “My name is a burden, Will. It carries with it…history. A history that I left behind, that I never want to return to. But it’s also history that formed me. I’ve never believed I could escape it—still don’t believe it. And so I keep it as a reminder of where I came from, and of how much I have gained in my life since I left Hibernia. That, and it would be too much of a headache to change it at this point. Too much paperwork.”
At this, a gentle breath of a laugh found its way out Will’s nose. “So the answer is no?”
“The answer is no,” Halt repeated.
Somehow, the words hurt worse when heard than when spoken.
Suddenly choked, Will swallowed, his gaze drawn to his hands by the gravitational force of shame.
He shouldn’t have asked.
He had to have asked.
Even so, hearing that refusal was one of the worst moments of his life.
“But look at me,” Halt said, his gruff voice a gentle rumble as he nudged Will’s chin with a knuckle.
Will looked up, only to find tears lining the lower eyelids of his usually stoic mentor. The surprise banished the shame from his chest, and he found himself leaning closer to Halt in concern.
“I am…honored,” Halt said, his voice wavering, “that you would ask for my name. I’ve considered you my charge from the first day I met you…nineteen years ago. And over the past few years, I’ve come to consider you my son.”
Will’s eyes burned with unshed tears of his own. “Halt…”
Halt cupped Will’s face with a callused hand. “I need you to understand that I could not be more proud of the man you’ve become. Not a day goes by where I am not thankful that you were my apprentice, that I was allowed a few years of your childhood to raise you, to train you.”
Will nodded, sniffling harshly as his heart swelled with emotion. “I understand.”
“Sharing a name,” Halt went on, “sharing blood, I’ve come to learn, has nothing to do with family. Do you understand?”
Will was already nodding before Halt finished his statement, his eyes filled with tears to the point where he could hardly see Halt’s face, even though his mentor was just in front of him.
Halt tilted Will’s head down and kissed his hair. Will screwed his eyes shut, determined not to let a single tear escape. Not today.
Today was a happy day.
For a moment, they sat in silence, each man recollecting himself as they kept their arms locked together. The quiet rang with echoes of each comfortable silence the two had ever shared, the kind of comfort they would have to rediscover every time they met up again from this day forward. Will leaned close to his mentor, as if he could stave off the impending separation by physical closeness alone.
Once more, Halt pressed a kiss to Will’s hair, bookending the moment. Then, he straightened. He sniffed once, harshly, and coughed to clear his throat. “Now,” he said, “you still need to choose a surname.”
Will nodded, acknowledging the fact but at a loss. “Can’t I just be the Will? And everyone else can be Will-the-Elder, Will-the-Younger, and such?” His voice came out scratchy, and he stood to serve himself a glass of water.
Turning away allowed him a precious few seconds to recollect himself, to try to hide his swollen eyes and reddened nose as if Halt hadn’t been present—and just as emotional—for the past few minutes. He grabbed two cups of water, then returned to the table and set one in front of Halt, himself sipping at the other.
“Make everyone else change?” Halt raised an eyebrow.
Will shrugged. “It was only a suggestion.”
Halt nodded, but said nothing.
A ghost of the prior solemnity settled in the room once more, and it seemed neither of them knew what to do with it.
“To tell you the truth, I’d rather take whatever last name you choose,” Halt said.
Will had to grin at that. “I doubt Lady Pauline would let you.”
Halt gave him a suspicious side eye. “You’re not planning on Boarkiller, are you?”
At this, Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “It would spark fear in the hearts of my enemies,” he granted.
“Really?” Halt challenged. “You plan on shouting it to them every time you plan an ambush, do you?”
“My name is Will Boarkiller!” Will grinned. “Surrender or perish!”
“Alright, alright, sit down,” Halt said, rolling his eyes. Will sat, as he was told. “You’re not taking Boarkiller. Anything else?
“I…um…” Will lost his humorous gusto and glanced down at his hands again. “I hadn’t…thought of wanting anything else.”
Halt’s hand gently settled on the back of Will’s neck, encouraging the boy to look up and meet the eyes of his mentor once again. All he saw was pride and fondness, as Halt had promised, and it warmed his heart.
“Alright then,” Halt said. “When did you decide you wanted to be called Will O’Carrick?”
Will felt his cheeks heat again, but he refused to be embarrassed. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer—and he’d already confessed everything he felt would embarrass him. There was hardly anything left to confess now. Halt knew all of it. “Skandia, I suppose.”
At once, Halt stood and grabbed his longbow from where it rested, unstrung and propped against the nearby wall. He jokingly tapped Will’s right shoulder, then his left. “Then I hereby dub thee Will Treaty, after your achievements in Skandia.” There was an earnest look in his eyes as he apologized, “I hope that is enough?”
Will couldn’t stop the watery laugh from escaping him.
Five years ago, he’d had nothing. No family, no home, not even a last name. Now he had all three, and they were his. They suited him like nothing else in the world, and he wouldn’t trade any of what he had for anything.
But the words escaped him, stuck in his throat behind a sob he was fighting so desperately to keep down. So instead, he lunged forward and embraced his mentor, his father, who caught him like it was the most natural move in the world, like two magnets clicking together. Will buried his face in Halt’s shoulder, allowing himself one more moment of comfort.
Halt held him just as tightly. He’d never been free with his praise, and compliments were more likely to be spoken about Will rather than directly to him, but a soft touch, and affectionate nudge, or an embrace in relief… He’d never been stingy with those.
Will took a deep breath and settled into Halt’s arms. A feeling of safety washed over him, not unlike the safety he felt with his longbow and quiver across his back, his saxe and throwing knives at his waist.
All too soon, Halt drew back. “I’m going to fetch Crowley,” he said, but he hesitated as if it had been a question. Only after Will had nodded his agreement did he step back and move towards the front door. Will let him go, sitting once more at the little table and taking a drink of his water.
Somehow, after everything… He felt lighter.
And he didn’t regret asking. Not one bit.
Halt leaned out of the cabin, exchanging quiet words with Crowley. Will hardly had the time to wonder what was being said before both men returned into the cabin, with Crowley pretending not to notice the red-rimmed eyes of his friends.
“Let’s get this settled, shall we?” the Commandant said, sitting once again at the small table in the cabin and picking up the quill. He dipped it in ink, the light tinkling noise of quill against ink bottle ringing through the cabin as clearly as a herald’s trumpet.
“What’d you decide?” Crowley looked up to Will, quill at the ready over the official parchment.
Will grinned at Halt, then at his Commandant. “Will Treaty.”