Pallydindins

The sun rises in the East, and sets with us in the West.

 

I remember this saying, from my first days of schooling, the elderly scribe preaching it to the roomful of squires.

I sigh as I watch the sun rising on the horizon, ignoring the sounds of the dying behind me. The water is beautiful, sunlight glimmering on it like tiny jewels that shine even brighter as each wave crests, and I almost feel myself choke up when a heavy hand places itself on my pauldron.

 

Josiah.

 

I know it’s him before I turn around, he’s one of the few left, and I smile a bit when I catch a glimpse of his bushy beard. Of course, the caked blood mars the humor of it a bit, but one can’t help but bleed when an arrow has torn your cheek. He looks at me with concern, concern I understand fully, but one would not expect if taking him at face value. His outward looks are brusque, scarred face and rough calloused hands distracting you from his soft eyes and furrowed brow, said brow becoming doubly furrowed upon sighting a wounded animal, or a lost child.

 

“Sir,” he begins, but I stop him with a hand.

 

I can see the trio behind him, and I bend over to collect my helm of the ground. It’s gotten quite a few scrapes on it, matching my armor, and I feel a slight amount of shame at how unsightly I must look toward the three looking at me.

 

The one ahead of the others is young, barely of age to hold a sword I’d think, but nonetheless he carries a well-crafted blade in a sheath at his side. He stands with a sort of disgusted look on his face, but it’s hidden enough that one would think he’s simply indifferent. He’s noble born, I can tell, as his armor is more regal than what a simple soldier would buy, much less a mercenary.

 

Behind him to his right is a woman, clad in full plate, battleaxe stuck into the ground at her feet. Her disgusted look isn’t as well hidden, refusing to make eye contact with me as I approach, and her lip curls in revulsion as she gets a whiff of dried blood from my blade. I can’t say I blame her, had I more time I’d certainly have cleaned myself of the battle’s aftermath, but as it is I had little preparation.

 

Opposite of her stands a man clad in a leather tunic, crossbow ready in his hands, almost as if he expects me to attempt something. I don’t blame him either, a bodyguard is trained to be ready for anything, and even a beaten commander is still a threat.

 

Especially if that commander was one of the King’s Paladins.

 

Stepping up to the younger man, I give a small bow before looking him in the eye, earning a small look of indignation before he speaks.

 

“Ser Heldren, you stand accused of aiding enemies of the crown, and of allowing my father, your King, to be assassinated. Your sentence is death, do you have any last words before Lady Telon carries the sentence?”

 

I flinch a bit, remembering the look on his father’s face as he died, and I clear my throat before speaking.

 

“I served the King for twenty years before joining his order, and another ten years after that. I watched you, and your sister grow up, and I even taught you the basics of swordplay and tactics. I cannot, however, stand to ignore several things,”

 

Josiah grunts behind me, two soldiers have forced him to his knees as Telon moves to behead him.

 

“I cannot ignore your father ordering the deaths of peasants for asking for more food, I cannot ignore the fact that he burnt Easterner villages to the ground,“

 

My sentence is cut short by the sound of Josiah’s head rolling on the ground and the Lady’s chuckle.

 

I have to make this quick.

 

“I cannot ignore your father’s heresy,” I state, “He turned a once noble order into his personal death squad to keep himself from death,”

 

I hear Telon move behind me, and I realize action must be taken.

 

Flinging my helm forward, it catches the bodyguard in the face, causing him to recoil and fire the crossbow in his hands, luckily hitting one of the soldiers nearby. Throwing an elbow back, I catch Telon in the face, sending her stumbling and the prince into a state of panic as I draw my sword. With one step I bury the blade in him, the young man letting out a squeak as his blood spills out.

 

“And I cannot ignore the fact that he stole my wife, and my son,” I whisper in his ear, tears blurring my vision.

 

It takes a mere second for the first blade to enter me, the point of a spear held by a soldier tasked to end the lives of the wounded. I don’t resist as others join in, and I merely smile at the sun as I’m thrown onto my back and Telon raises her axe over her head in preparation for the killing blow. She never gets it however, as a javelin pierces her neck, and the rest of the soldier scream as the Eastern army storms out from their hiding places.

 

My eyesight starts to darken as Telon falls, and I ignore the two Easterners trying to get me to a healer.

 

It doesn’t matter, I’ve righted myself in the eyes of my God, and I let my eyes fall as the sun finally sets on the West.