A Tale of Blades & Blood-Chapter 16: The Green Prince

[Forien's Point of View]

War is no game. Many times, have I almost died in battle. I already would have been dead if it were not for Ser Magrae Abberan, my guardian and Elite Bannerman of infantry. The battle was nearly lost as our men were trapped in the city by the cavalry of the Ballister men. Fortunately for us, the riders from Cain, Tudora, Abelos, and Melinia, came at the right time to turn back the tides to our favor. All of them were led by the fierce Lord Loreys Tiberrun- the one that does not smile.

We move further into the city, along buildings that were either burnt or partially damaged. The great march of our men was consistent when it came to speed and ferocity. Any man that stood in the way was killed, and any woman that stood up to the men were taken away to be made prostitutes for the benefit of the soldiers. "Comfort women" was what they called them.

"Those bastards almost made us lose the war." Ser Magrae remarked as he walked beside me, his left leg injured so much from the wave of Ballister men and stallions that he actually limped.

"Yes, ser..." I replied plainly. All those lives... I thought, how do they sleep at night?

We would face many small groups of city guards here and there, but they never reached us. Most of the time they were already killed before they got to say anything. "Brutal men, these free men are, eh?" he whispered softly.

"Quite the lot..." I told him, "...but these are men built for war, ser. They are destined to be brutal." I replied, carefully avoiding corpses on my way.

"True." he answered. "I wonder what it is like in the free cities..." he began, adjusting his golden mask that covered half his face- the scarred and deformed side. "Plenty of good women, I assume." he laughed. The man always had dark humor.

"Of what use would they be to you, ser?" I asked with a smile, knowing I would probably get a foul answer, but a funny one at least.

"To bed, my lord!" he exclaimed. "I would take to bed the finest maidens for any price!" he jokingly remarked, keeping his right hand on the handle of his blade. "I'd imagine south women being better looking than most in the north." he told me.

"What makes them all the more beautiful?" I asked. "Women of the south, women of the north, and the women of the east- they are all the same, my lord. Women." I explained to him. No use comparing them, I thought. You ought to do the same thing for anything with a hole between its legs.

"Aye." he answered. "But women from the south are colorful, young lord..." he told me, "...I could imagine those large spoils making marks on those silk dresses under the heat of the sun... one man could only want so much." he explained in detail. I needed not to hear that.

"You let those vile women control you." I told him. "Why not fight? Why must you take women to bed when you can take your wife to bed and make love from her and not lust?" I asked.

The man of Abberan turned his head to me, his one eye judging me while his mask stayed without emotion. "You ever slept with a woman, my lord?" he asked.

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

"No." I told him. "And I never will take a whore to bed." I answered with pride and sternness. I knew better than to indulge in whores and wine. That was what The Mad King, Oreon, did.

"Have you ever fought in a war?" he asked.

"This one, ser-"

"No." he interrupted. "Besides your father's war, have you ever fought in one, my lord, sword at hand and facing death?" he asked once more.

"No, ser." I replied, wondering where the bannerman was going with his questions.

"Then, do not talk about my whores. They make a soldier tame in times of blood..." he told me, "...and never talk about fights as glorious. I know better than to get in another war." he remarked, pointing to his golden mask that hid his face.

I paused for a while, inviting silence to a war that should be loud. Then, I spoke again. "What happened, ser..." I began, "...that was so filled with gore that it made you into what you are?" I asked.

He looked at me, then he looked far into the distance. He gave a deep breath into his lungs, and he opened his mouth to speak. "I fought in many wars..." he began, "...and many of them I fought when I was only a young boy like you, my lord."

"I was strong back then." he remarked, a smile slowly creeping at his face. "I would always be proud and boast of being one of the greatest fighters in The Northen Island. I even went as far as dueling Maerys at a tournament. I almost had my head bashed in with a hammer!" he recalled, letting out a chuckle as he remembered everything.

"I fought in the war against the rebels at The North Steps, deep in the keep of Blackstone, ruled by House Verrys. I was only twenty when I was sent out by Lord Loreys to fight-"

"How old was he?" I asked, baffled.

"Ser Maerys?" the man asked. "Around thirty back then. Even with his lack of youth today, he was always a better fighter than I was-"

"No, ser. I meant Lord Loreys Tibberun." I corrected him.

"He was in his late years on his third decade alive..." he answered. "He looked more terrifying before than he does now. I remember Mareste would shit his pants when he saw him." he jokingly remarked. "I called him 'Bastard Lord' in secret. I still do. I always resented the man, but I saw him as a father." he explained.

If he was already terrifying to look at, I wondered, how spine-chilling was that lord when he was younger? "What happened to House Verrys?" I asked.

The man's smile returned, and he looked at the sky, at the birds and clouds, recalling the memories and living them in a daydream. "We sieged that castle for only a day..." he told me. "Lord Loreys is an excellent commander. He led an army of twenty-five thousand eastern folk to the gates, armed with artillery. It was brutal as shit."

"He let stones rain on the keep until there was no keep left." he told me. "I was one of my brothers who led the charge into the city. I was the one who..." he paused, the smile fading from his lips. What happened to him? I asked myself.

"Ser..." I called. "What did you do?"

He looked at me with a cold stare, then his smile came back, but it could barely be seen. "It is best not to say it." he said firmly as he rode ahead of me. Odd, I thought. What secrets is Ser Magrae hiding from me, from the world? What made that deed so horrendous that even the most freakish man would frown and never smile?

Along the roads to the west of Northrest, a party makes their efforts to survive... [Orevian's Point of View]

I remember I was never a boy fond of the snow. Now I realize I am much less fond of the south- warmer and dryer. The furry coat I once wore at the keep of Lady Norien was no longer useful. Why must it be warm in the south? I asked myself. Shouldn't spring be looked forward to? I do not see much reason.

"You're sweating, my lord?" the stable boy asked, whose name he told when we were outside the city walls: Loran Aelond.

"It's warm." I told him. "Really warmer than the north, I should say." I remarked with a light chuckle. Seriously, the climate would ought to choke me in this heat.

At the back of the carriage, Lady Norien rested, still heartbroken on the fact that we had to leave her family behind. It is normal, I thought to myself. There was no other choice that could save our lives. "Don't blame yourself, my lord." Loran remarked as he stopped the horse on a mound, hidden away by a rock that stood there. Rocks are a thing of the south, I suppose, I thought.

"We're stopping here?" I asked him.

"It is better to let the horse get some rest..." he remarked. "Do you know how to shoot an arrow, my lord?" he asked, revealing a bow and arrow right beside him. He had a smirk on his face, but not one of arrogance, but of excitement.

"A northern man knows weapons like the back of his hand." I told him. "I know how to shoot, yes. What for?" I asked him, laying my body against the carriage.

"We have to hunt for food, my lord..." he told me. "It is not like the customs of a castle out in the real world-"

"I know, Loran." I reassured him. "I have been hunting for years. The northern men are not sloths- noble or common folk." I remarked proudly.

He let out a chuckle at the thought- a noble boy of seventeen being able to hunt. He looked at the carriage where Lady Norien slept soundly. "We cannot leave my lady here." he tells me. "Perhaps one should guard the carriage while the other hunts, my lord."

"Indeed." I agreed. "I will hunt..." I volunteered, "...I quite miss the feeling of taking down a deer." I told him. Finally, I thought, some northern customs I could finally do again.

"No, let me hunt, my lord." he offered. "Rest here. After what happened at the keep, I could not imagine the suffering you've had." he said with a comforting voice. "Please, mourn if you must." he remarked, smiling ever so widely.

"Perhaps I should stay." I told him. "I could check on Lady Norien when she wakes from her slumber."

"As the lord commands." he says casually, still bowing as a sign of respect. I don't deserve this treatment, I thought. I left my family behind, now I do not know their fate.

"No..." I began, "...call me Orevian. I no longer deserve that title of 'lord'." I explained to him. "I left my family's fate to be unknown. I left them behind to die by the hands of traitors and deceivers-"

"You tried to save them, but it was too late." he told me, his face serious as can be. "You cannot do anything about it now, my lord. Mourn if you must, but do not put the guilt on yourself..." he advised me, "...it is the Strix men who bear the guilt of murder." he finished with a disgusted tone.

"Would they even feel guilty?" I asked. "They murdered those people ruthlessly. I should have died with them, Loran; I am a coward and a scrawny wretch of a noble and son." I said as I began to tear up. I collapse on the grass, kneeling down and holding my hair. "It should have been me..." I said in tears. "...not Orelia."

Loran knelt down, and laid his hands on my shoulders. "Mourn..." he said, "...for sorrow is an emotion everyone has, my lord, but be resilient, for that is something few of us are." he finished. I look up to his eyes, seeing him smile in a comforting way made me... calmer.

"Go..." I told him, "...we must not let emotions take us over. Go hunt if you must, and we will camp here for the night." I ordered. Loran smiled and patted my back. He took his bow and quiver and ventured into the woods, but not before looking back and saying-

"As you wish, Orevian."