Conquest

Fury - Part Three

The sun shined upon the metal armors as the King's army prepared to march. The rattle of steel came from everywhere, the neighing of horses and shouting of men. Sounds of war, no doubt. But war was not the thing the soldiers had prepared for this day. They prepared for the oddest command, some will say the best one, their commander has ever given. Do not attack. The opposite of what they came to do.

"Damn it." Declared Knight-Lord Duncan through his stout and flushed face, his beady eyes surveying the commotion in front of him. "Damn it."

"Indeed." Agreed Solomon, staring at his soldiers as well, "Damn it."

"I hope you don't mind me saying," Duncan said, "but your brother is an incompetent idiot."

"As you are so fond of mentioning." Solomon said dryly. He assumed it was more his fault then his brother's that Duncan resented the King. Had he not abdicated the crown, Duncan would be the one to command the army, as he did in their father's days. As he rightfully deserved. But when Cedric inherited the throne, one of the first things he did was to declare his brother as head of the army, demoting Duncan to the position of his right-hand.

Well, not a demotion per se. When they tried to explain to the King that the Knight-Lord was the high commander of the entire army, a man which cannot be replaced on a whim, Cedric announced on an even higher rank in the chain of command: The Arch-Knight, named after the messengers of Gods in the old faiths, and gave his brother the title, as well as the command on the army.

Technically, not a demotion.

Honestly, Solomon preferred this option over the second one, which was simply killing Duncan. An option which was brought up to discussion more times than once, to Solomon great dismay.

"mercenaries. A damn disgrace," Duncan grunted, more to himself then to Solomon, "acting like we're their tools. Using us like asses in the fields."

"I sure feel like an ass right now." Solomon said.

Duncan sneaked a stare at him from the corner of his eye, then proclaimed, "Damn it."

"Arch-Knight Solomon, sir!" A young officer emerged from the rows of soldiers and stiffly saluted the two.

"Proceed."

"The four brigades are ready for march my lord. Four more divisions will stay at the rear to send reinforcement anywhere needed." He informed, not breaking his enthusiastic salute. "Our forces are twelve thousand and four-hundred men strong, to his Majesty's glory!"

"Good. send word for the brigades' commanders. We march soon." Solomon ordered and waved the young officer away.

"Sir!" The officer repeated and turned to salute, but when he realized he already did, he quickly lowered his hand and saluted again, fast. His heavy gauntlet hit his forehead and left a red bruise, and Solomon could barely stifle a laugh. Then the young soldier turned around and ran to send the messages, his face flushed with shame.

"Damn it." Duncan rolled his eyes in his round and thin-haired head, "In your father's days you wouldn't see such inept soldiers. In his days the soldiers were disciplined, and proud of their uniforms. They were willing to die for their country, their home and their king. They marched with heads held high, they had morale, spirit. These soldiers-"

"Less." Solomon finished the sentence before his right-hand could say anything even more infuriating. He loved Duncan, he knew him all his life and was his father closest friend before his passing. He was his' and Cedric's Sword Master and was gentler to him and his brother then Solomon remember their father ever was in his life.

Still, tact was a word a bit foreign to Duncan, and the man proved it in nearly every conversation they had.

"But then again, inept as you say they are," Solomon continued, "they wouldn't be here if they weren't willing to sacrifice something for their King."

"That, or they don't know anything else."

"What do you mean?"

"Face it, son. As powerful an army can be, it is a herd of sheep. Take away the shepherd and they are all food for the wolves. They need something to guide them, a cause. Cedric gives them a cause, as pointless as it may be."

"You think they fight those which they swore to defend because they don't know anything else?"

"We are not all born into royalty. Most of the men here held a sword in their hand longer then they had held their own pricks. You want those same people to turn to pottery, or carpentry? Or whoring, in some cases? Even for people like me the best option is politics, and I rather get a sword in my face then a knife in the back." and Duncan looked at the scurrying soldiers with a sad smile. "Death is a life-long profession."

Solomon stared at the man at his side, and suddenly Duncan seemed much older than he remembered. What he had seen, the horrors he went through with every war and battle, the decisions he took with every command shouted, every order given.

Solomon thought about his own past, his own wars and his own battles, the blood he had spilled and the people he cut down. hundreds of terrified faces, as clear to Solomon as if he watches them this very moment. Nameless men, women and children, crying and shouting in pain, begging for mercy. Shaking hands reaching out for him, pleading, and his sword striking down. Eyes staring expressionless at the blackened night sky. Crimson staining his hard face, his mouth gaped in a smile.

Fire, and pain, and destruction, and blood, and death, and fury-

"Solomon." Duncan said, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Solomon blinked and was once again in the green valley, his army at his feet and his hand at his side.

"You alright son?"

"I'm good," he smiled at him, "just thought of how right you are."

The two commanders continued to watch the soldiers gather below them in silence, then Duncan asked, "When are we supposed to move?"

Solomon opened his mouth to answer, then closed it and frowned when he realized he have not a clue. He surveyed the surrounding hills searching for a familiar figure and found it on a nearby fell, void black against the azure sky.

"Fetch me my horse." He ordered a young stable boy, which nodded in enthusiasm and ran to his duty.

Solomon continued eyeing Shadow, lest the bastard disappear from his sight, when suddenly the little man raised his hand and waved at him vigorously. Solomon cocked his brow, then raised his hand as well and awkwardly waved back.

Shadow froze, his hand still in the air, then lowered it, and seemed as if placing his palm against his forehead. He then raised his hand again, but this time pointed at the city. Solomon followed his hand, then repeated Shadow's motion. Then he pointed to the ground and mouthed 'now?', very aware that Shadow probably won't understand him, this far away. But the ragged man pointed at the city again, then the ground and then the city once more.

Solomon turned around and met Duncan judgmental stare. The older man raised his brow, and the embarrassed Solomon swallowed and said, "Now."

"Asses in the fields." Duncan sighed. Tactless as he was, Solomon couldn't agree with him more. "Damn it."

"Send the word. we march now." Solomon said and moved toward the stable boy leading his horse.

He grabbed the reins and heaved himself up, and within seconds was galloping up the hill where Shadow stood. He couldn't help but hearing- or maybe imagining- Duncan exclaiming, 'Damn it,' one last time.