Valadel

Valadel Rising / Chapter II: The Old Thorn

GALLADOR THORNSHIELD

The King's Encampment, Northern Jorden

GALLADOR THORNSHIELD AWOKE with a painful reminder that he was, in fact, growing old.

Well, not quite old enough to the point he involuntarily soiled himself, but old enough to wake with a sore neck and groan whenever he sat upright in his bed. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and nearly crusted together with every blink. What hour is it? The purple hues that bruised the sky suggested dawn was afoot, but the moon still lingered off in the distance, as though still clinging to the last hour of darkness like a jealous lover.

Gallador stretched his sore back, and felt a tremor of pain shudder through his neck. Gods damn these old bones. In his youth, Gallador would awake with energy coursing through his veins. He'd jump out of bed, stretch, exercise, and be well on his way to vanquish any challenge that dared face him that given day, all before the rest of the people of Jorden could be bothered to stir awake. But that was some time ago, some time ago indeed. Nowadays, when Gallador awoke, all he wished to do was piss.

The old ranger shuffled from his bed to his privy, where nothing else but a brass chamberpot beneath a wooden seat awaited him. A stream of yellow urine prattled against the metal like rain against a rooftop. Gallador sighed, almost pleasantly. It's been a while since I've had a good piss.

He stuffed his member back into his trousers and shambled over to wash his hands. The water in his pitcher was warm, and he assumed that at some point in the night, his stewards heated it for him and returned it while he slept. God bless the lads, the Old Thorn thought thankfully. A good steward was hard to find, especially one on a war campaign. The old fort was hardly comfortable, on the verge of being a ruin some might say, but such things never bothered Gallador. He was a ranger after all, and though he may have come from wealth, he was never above his duty.

He poured the water into a metal bowl and gently rinsed his face, letting the warm water run through his salted blond beard like a woman's teasing fingers. When he returned to his bed, he sank to two knees and clasped his hands together.

Allfather above, he prayed. Grant my men, my king, and myself your blessings of wisdom. Instill within us your godly virtues, that we may rise above our mortal ignorance, and walk alongside you down the path of righteousness and justice. Lord Ellmen, hear my prayers. Guide me as-

There was a rapping at the door. "Lord Commander Thornshield? Are you awake, my Lord?"

Gallador sighed. He hardly had time to both piss and pray in the mornings out here. The days began as soon as he woke, and ended only when he slept. "Just a moment," he replied tiredly.

He threw on a robe and went to the door. It was a King's messenger that waited from the other side, dressed in steel and sporting a golden shoulder cape draped across his left pauldron. "Apologies for the early hour, my Lord. The King has requested your presence at once."

His voice was solemn, Gallador noticed, though he was sure the messenger's tone didn't necessarily mean the message he carried was somber as well. They all spoke in such a way. The king could ask for a second helping at supper, and the messengers would surely relay the message as if the supper were to be the King's last.

Gallador sighed. The sun wasn't even up yet. Still, he knew Joras for the man he was, and patient was not a word he would use to describe him. "Thank you, good messenger. I will be with him shortly."

The messenger bowed and left with a flourish, perfectly pivoting on his heels and taking carefully measured steps until Gallador lost him around a corner. Gallador closed the door behind him, and set to getting dressed. His dress coat was modest, a gray woolen jacket chased with black and gold, held together by black buttons on the far right side of his chest, the collar perfectly encasing his neck, and his black trousers still had a little shine to them. He clasped his crimson mantle together with a golden brooch, and felt the cape gently graze against his calves.