The Horseman of Calamity

Chapter 7 - Heated Skirmish

Hung's morning was slightly more hectic than he thought it would be. He was awoken by a gangly servant boy knocking on his door, announcing that he was to prepare for battle immediately. He had, unfortunately, overslept. The realization had caused his heart to sink a little, as it meant he wouldn't have time to say farewell to Dr. Montarche and Larie. With a frustrated groan, Hung had quickly gotten out of bed and made himself look presentable before heading to the castle's bailey.

The courtyard was alight with hundreds of knights, soldiers, and servants who were hurrying to prepare for the impending battle; while commanders in blinding armor barked out orders to the scuttling soldiers. There were people wearing simple armor—likely foot soldiers—and archers who were sharpening their feathered arrows. A number of the knights and higher-ranked soldiers were dueling with one another, their clashes were heavy with adrenaline and the impact sent loud echoes throughout the yard. The loud sounds accompanied by the cheers of onlookers, scuttling servants, and neighing horses. There was a thick scent of cooked game and perspiration throughout the air, which made Hung's nose wrinkle but his heart beat in both dread and excitement.

"There you are!" A male soldier came up from beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He had chainmail armor on and possessed a beautifully luscious mustache. "Commander's been lookin' all over fer you! Come with me." The man patted him on his shoulder before letting go and walking into the bustling crowd; Hung quickly trailing after him.

He was guided to a small grassy clearing near the front of the castle, where a number of soldiers were getting orders from a heavily armored woman. Said woman's armor gleamed white and bluish-gray under the sun high above them and Hung couldn't help but gape in awe at her. She exuded an air of fierce confidence and masculinity—Hung would've thought she was a man if she was wearing a helmet. Weirdly enough, she also looked like one of his high school teachers, her dark brown hair and tall figure giving some form of resemblance. The thought of one of his teachers trying to fight in a war made him scoff.

"This here is the Knights of the Butterfly, and the lady over there-" the mustached man pointed at the armored woman, "-is Commander Katrika. Who you will be taking orders from now on. She will talk to you about your responsibilities as soon as she is finished talking with the other knights" Hung nodded, wondering if the commander acted as brave and kind as she looked. After chattering for a while longer, the mustached man, who was actually named Fen, soon went off to tend to his other duties.

Hung stood for a while in the grassy clearing, taking in around everything going on around him. Fen had told him that there were five other knights on the squad that Hung was going to work with, but after seeing their stares and murmurs, Hung didn't bother to greet any of them. Their stares caused the hairs on his neck to prickle, and he opted to go over to a tree to sit down under its shade rather than stand there like a lost idiot.

Under the boughs of the tree, there was a cool breeze that sometimes wafted through Hung's hair, helping to cool off his sweaty brow and oftentimes pelting bits of dust at his face. Thoughts and images of the impending battle flashed through his head; images of blood, gore, and mindless valor and of echoing screams and splitting bones. Acidic, biting bile began to rise up his throat, but he gulped and forced it down. This is not the time for freaking out. He told himself.

Suddenly, there was the steady sound of horse steps and whinnying, causing Hung to look up to observe the approaching creatures. Before he left, Fen had told him that he was going to be traveling by horse, while the rest of the lower-ranked soldiers walked. Yet after all that time traveling with Till, Hung still hadn't been taught how to ride a horse. I'll have to ask someone to teach me soon. He thought.

There were seven horses, brown, muscular, and regal; similar to the horses that he had ridden on when he was traveling with Till, but these ones were slightly taller and had leaner builds. And from the scars along their flanks, he could tell that they were bred for the battlefield. Their sole purpose was to be sent out to die.