Protected: Chapter One
Protected
Chapter One: Pride
This, thought the knight, darkness falling down, oppressive and heavy as a quilt, has got to be the worst day of my life.
But it had all started weeks ago, when an army platoon, headed by three knights, was sent to sort out unrest between humans and ogres, just east of the Royal Forest. The weather was foggy, and miserable. The soldiers were almost all young, many of them new, and almost all of those were convicts, destitute refugees, or malcontents. One of the knights was middle-aged while the other two were young. Green, to his eyes.
The conditions were far from ideal, but one had to make the best with the cards one was dealt by the gods (who, after all, knew best). So the knight made do with the weather, with the orders of a commander who disrespected anyone under thirty-five, and she made do with the endless motivational speeches the soldiers required, just to keep up the routine of marching. After all, Keladry of Mindelan was far from unused to circumstances far from idyllic.
After weeks of marching ten feet at a time -- because that was as far as they could see -- the soldiers began voicing grumbles, and not just from their stomachs. We are serving our great kingdom, paying our debt of fealty to our king and queen, Kel drummed into them -- and herself. It is my duty, she chanted through gritted teeth as they stopped, again, to find their lost path in Sir Martin’s maps.
They started losing soldiers. Sir Martin said nothing of it, not to the young knights and not to the men in the camp. Sir Zahir stated boldly that three bold and willing men were better than a thousand back stabbing cowards, and went back to talking about his wife and family. Kel was walking in the direction of the troops’ fires, contemplating her well-rehearsed speech with disdain, when Sir Martin caught up with her and placed a hand, quite lightly, on her shoulder.
"You are young," he said stiffly, but not coldly.
"Yes, sir," said Keladry. "It has been established that I’m only twenty five."
Sir Martin shook his head. "Not just in age, Lady Knight," he protested firmly, "but in spirit. You make up for your practicality with youthful idealism. Our esteemed monarchs find it refreshing, but I find it a liability."
Kel raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"Yes, a liability," insisted Sir Martin. "You cannot see what is, because you are blinded by what you believe should be. Soldiers defect; it is a fact all commanders have learned to contend themselves with. And yet you, you brash young thing, take each desertion as a blow to your ancestral pride. It will do no good."
Kel listened in silence.
"Do you understand me, Lady Knight? Will you cease, immediately, this ridiculous interaction with the men?" demanded Sir Martin steadfastly.
Kel was stone. "Yes, sir."
She turned her back on the men and went to wash, as much as the surroundings allowed, and catch her sleep. Somehow, she was sure she would wake up to a camp almost unnoticeably diminished in size. And, although she wasn’t sure, she strongly felt that a talk with the men would help. At least let them see that their superiors were aware of their strife. Maybe that would awaken their latent sense of duty.
Sir Martin made no more mention of her youth or Zahir’s, although Zahir mentioned his wife and two sons no less frequently. The weather cleared up only a little bit, provision did not improve, and their clothes could scarcely be damper without leaving the path behind them a creek. Kel fought her sinking mood, reminding herself of her oaths, her bed, her friends, and anything else she could think of. She knew she must not become careless.
At a crossroads they passed there was a small town, with a courier service stop. Kel scribbled a hasty note to Neal, and another to her parents. Poor weather, but no great danger. Don’t worry. Hoping you are well, and to see you soon. Nothing out of the ordinary. The letters lifted her spirit.
"Things will improve," she said to Hoshi. "They’re bound to."
She was wrong.
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Chapter One: Pride
This, thought the knight, darkness falling down, oppressive and heavy as a quilt, has got to be the worst day of my life.
But it had all started weeks ago, when an army platoon, headed by three knights, was sent to sort out unrest between humans and ogres, just east of the Royal Forest. The weather was foggy, and miserable. The soldiers were almost all young, many of them new, and almost all of those were convicts, destitute refugees, or malcontents. One of the knights was middle-aged while the other two were young. Green, to his eyes.
The conditions were far from ideal, but one had to make the best with the cards one was dealt by the gods (who, after all, knew best). So the knight made do with the weather, with the orders of a commander who disrespected anyone under thirty-five, and she made do with the endless motivational speeches the soldiers required, just to keep up the routine of marching. After all, Keladry of Mindelan was far from unused to circumstances far from idyllic.
After weeks of marching ten feet at a time -- because that was as far as they could see -- the soldiers began voicing grumbles, and not just from their stomachs. We are serving our great kingdom, paying our debt of fealty to our king and queen, Kel drummed into them -- and herself. It is my duty, she chanted through gritted teeth as they stopped, again, to find their lost path in Sir Martin’s maps.
They started losing soldiers. Sir Martin said nothing of it, not to the young knights and not to the men in the camp. Sir Zahir stated boldly that three bold and willing men were better than a thousand back stabbing cowards, and went back to talking about his wife and family. Kel was walking in the direction of the troops’ fires, contemplating her well-rehearsed speech with disdain, when Sir Martin caught up with her and placed a hand, quite lightly, on her shoulder.
"You are young," he said stiffly, but not coldly.
"Yes, sir," said Keladry. "It has been established that I’m only twenty five."
Sir Martin shook his head. "Not just in age, Lady Knight," he protested firmly, "but in spirit. You make up for your practicality with youthful idealism. Our esteemed monarchs find it refreshing, but I find it a liability."
Kel raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"Yes, a liability," insisted Sir Martin. "You cannot see what is, because you are blinded by what you believe should be. Soldiers defect; it is a fact all commanders have learned to contend themselves with. And yet you, you brash young thing, take each desertion as a blow to your ancestral pride. It will do no good."
Kel listened in silence.
"Do you understand me, Lady Knight? Will you cease, immediately, this ridiculous interaction with the men?" demanded Sir Martin steadfastly.
Kel was stone. "Yes, sir."
She turned her back on the men and went to wash, as much as the surroundings allowed, and catch her sleep. Somehow, she was sure she would wake up to a camp almost unnoticeably diminished in size. And, although she wasn’t sure, she strongly felt that a talk with the men would help. At least let them see that their superiors were aware of their strife. Maybe that would awaken their latent sense of duty.
Sir Martin made no more mention of her youth or Zahir’s, although Zahir mentioned his wife and two sons no less frequently. The weather cleared up only a little bit, provision did not improve, and their clothes could scarcely be damper without leaving the path behind them a creek. Kel fought her sinking mood, reminding herself of her oaths, her bed, her friends, and anything else she could think of. She knew she must not become careless.
At a crossroads they passed there was a small town, with a courier service stop. Kel scribbled a hasty note to Neal, and another to her parents. Poor weather, but no great danger. Don’t worry. Hoping you are well, and to see you soon. Nothing out of the ordinary. The letters lifted her spirit.
"Things will improve," she said to Hoshi. "They’re bound to."
She was wrong.
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