𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

20 ⋆✶⋆The Young Ranger

Blaze let down her head, while she sauntered into the King's camp at Uthal heath. Gilan himself swung tiredly back and forth in the saddle. The past three days he'd barely gotten any sleep, he'd only had short naps every four hours. Not to mention he was still an emotional wreck from the break-up.

Two guards approached him to ask him what he came to do. The young Ranger searched under his shirt for his Silver insigne that proved he was a part of the Rangers corps. When the guards saw the oak leaf, they immediately cleared the way and let him pass kindly. In times as these nobody got it in their right minds to bother a Ranger- they knew better.

Gilan rubbed his sleep deprived eyes. "Where's the General staff's tent?"

One of the guards pointed with his spear to the tent that was a little big bigger than the others and stood on a small hill, so you could look over the entire camp. There were more sentries over there, which was expected at the centre of the heart of the army, which was ready to ride into battle.

Gilan nodded relieved. He'd come riding from so far so fast. He'd crossed a distance in three days which normally would've cost four days. He leaned forward and whispered in Blaze's ear: "It's not far anymore. Just this last bit, please!"

The horse's tired ears perked up and her low hanging head came back up.

In that moment Gilan felt a pang in his chest when he realised how much easier it would've been if he could've used Vacker as well. He felt tears swell up in his eyes and quickly spurred on his horse, while throwing his hood over his head. They trotted slowly in between the tents. There was noise everywhere. It smelled like fire and everything and everyone was walking about. A real army camp. Orders were being shouted, everywhere was the sound of clashing weapons, from training soldiers and blacksmiths alike. Laughter could be heard from the tents in which the soldiers were resting- until their sergeant decided to gather them around for an excercise or a chore.

Gilan smiled tiredly at that memory. There wasn't a sergeant in the world who liked it that his force didn't have anything to do for a moment.

Blaze halted again and Gilan shot upright. He realized that he really dozed off in the saddle for a moment. In front of him stood two guards, who blocked the way to the tent behind them. He looked at them with bloodshot eyes.

"I am a King's Ranger," he coughed, "with a message for the general staff."

The guards hesitated. This dusty, exhausted man on a sweaty horse with flaked foam around her mouth, both of them were obviously at the end of their Latin, could possibly be a Ranger; in each case he was wearing the Ranger's uniform. But most Rangers, the older ones at least, they recognized, because they'd been walking in and out of the place constantly. This young man they didn't know; and he also wasn't showing any identification. Moreover, they saw now, he was carrying a sword, and that was for sure no Ranger's weapon. They were therefore hesitating letting him pass. He could be a spy.

Annoyed Gilan remembered that he'd put his silver Oak leaf necklace back under his cloak. Suddenly it cost him a lot of effort to find the damned thing. He was blindly rummaging under his clothes, when a familiar, welcome voice made an end to cessation.

"Gilan! What happened? Is everything okay?"

It was the voice that, during five long years he'd been an apprentice, had always been the feeling of home, security and loyalty. For courage, policy and wisdom. That voice that always knew what should happen. The young Ranger's vale eyes filled with tears again as a certain relief washed over him.

"Halt!" he whispered with a breaking voice, and he realized that he was faltering and then fell out of his saddle.

Halt could just in time catch him before he reached the ground. He looked angrily at the two guards who stood by watching, not sure if they should help or not.