A Tale of Blades & Blood-Chapter 22: A Knight and A Lord

[Orevian's Point of View...]

I could bear the tears no longer.

When Ser Merill had told me of the siege of Northrest Keep, I cried my eyes out knowing my sister could not have survived. "The rocks fell on the city like comets, my lord..." he recalled as he told his story, "...and those riders were none like ours could handle." he remarked earlier, his face filled with guilt and shame.

I could only think of what my sister saw in her final moments. Perhaps she died a painful death by poison? Or perhaps she died a quick death with her head chopped off by a knight's blade? "How many men did you see?" I asked, my eyes stinging red.

"More than fifty thousand, your grace." he replied. "It was more than the city could fend off. There was none our cavalry could do." he added as if to add comfort. I was not comforted by any means. Do you want to comfort me, my lord? I wanted to ask. Tell me my sister is safe, then, I can relax and rejoice.

"We march to The Rocklands, Ser Merill..." I told him, standing up, hiding my tears and keeping my emotions secret. "Will you join us in our journey?" I asked, pacing back and forth inside the carriage.

"Of course, my lord..." he said quietly, "...I would sacrifice my life in the roads for the rightful king!" he exclaimed, kneeling down and bowing his head in respect. He had tears just as I had mine, but his were few and well hidden.

"Get up." I told him. "We have no use of our emotions here." I remarked as I sheathed my blade after cleaning the blood off of it. I can only imagine Loran's predicament, I thought to myself, he should be rancid by now.

As quick as he knelt, the knight stood up once more. "We journey now, your grace?" he asked, his back bent slightly as to not hit his head on the carriage's roof. I was nearing that point as well.

"See to it that Loran be cleaned first..." I told him, "...then, we can go and continue."

"As you command, your grace." he answered, walking outside the carriage. I followed behind him.

Loran was as red as red can be. The blood had practically painted his face- and his tunic. "Red suits you, Loran..." I remarked with a smile and a light chuckle, "...you should keep your tunic. It's a good design if I should say so myself." I remarked, giving a light smile.

"Thank the gods it had rained..." Loran remarked, "...or else I never would've had a wet towel to clean my face." he said with a smile just as warm as mine. "My tunic shall dry quick enough..." he began, finishing up cleaning himself, "...quick enough for us to begin our journey once more." he finished, squeezing the towel of its blood.

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"How'd fighting go for you?" I asked as Ser Merill tendered to Lady Norien's wounds. She had cut herself on the very same ax she went to grab. "Perhaps you ought to have lessons at Westhold Keep." I told him, taking a step closer as he changed into his new tunic.

"We should stop at a village, my lord." he suggested, getting his head through the hole in his tunic. "We cannot fit all of us inside the carriage to sleep-"

"Then we will take turns at watch." I replied. "Have Ser Merill take the afternoon shift, then, I will drive the carriage at night." I remarked, turning around to get a view at the fields. By this point, the Nortenhein mountains were closer than Northrest Keep, and the hills surrounded us all.

"As you say, Orevian." he replied, finally getting changed and walking to the carriage's interior. Caeris the rabbit huddled at his feet.

The rest of the journey was calm. Ser Merill took hold of the horse as we went along the road to Westhold, where the lords of House Gryphith stood. That is, if they survived the ambush. If they did not, House Leros would be there in their absence. They had always been loyal men to the Gryphiths, and so were their fellow minor houses: House Blackstone and House Faerelion.

The South Cradle should be able to hold on for longer until we gather support from The Rocklands. With House Levarion heading the defense and House Heraion by their side, they should be able to fend off the green men. The sooner we get Lady Norien back in charge of The South Cradle, I thought, the better our chances are.

The eastern houses are a strong group, with House Abberan and House Tiberrun housing the greatest of swordsmen and warriors. The famous Aberran brothers, renowned for their glory in battle, are known all throughout the realm, and Lord Loreys of Tiberrun and his deeds are despised yet feared everywhere. House Berros, on the other hand, only serves House Strix in terms of holding up their gold- and their place as the richest house in all of The Northern Island.

Then, there is our home, our region, the oldest among the four: The Weslands. Home to the great houses of Ballister, Leoan, and Abbister, our lands stood strong. Even during the rule of the two false kings of House Strix, many loyalists still fought, hiding among mountains and being sheltered in caves, inns, and forests. They were the very bulk of King Orevion's men during his battle on Nortenhein, where he defeated the second false king and took the throne once more.

It's as if I'm living the entire tale, I thought to myself, but I am not as strong nor brave as him.

It was sundown when we had arrived, and the village of Trayne's End was livelier than most villages at the north. The children still played at the well-lit squares, playing with toys and small sculptures of knights in armor. Their mothers watched on, chattering about whatever rumors they could get their hands on, and their fathers were nowhere to be seen, except for some that worked in the fields and markets.

The buildings were small, built made up of stone and wood, some having straw as roofs and others only having sticks and cloth. The markets were still loud, but soon, I could hear the shouts of men saying "We're closed! Come the next day when my ass is rested!" or even "I need rest. I'll get you your bread in the morning."

Talk about the siege had already reached the village. "Have you heard o' the fucking siege happening in Northrest?" one man asked another as they went on by.

"Aye." another man replied. "Those green men never should've been trusted."

The carriage stopped inside a fairly large stable, where horse litter was everywhere. The smell already reached inside, but the aroma of cooking turkey was the best of them all. "How many golden heads do we have?" Lady Norien asked Loran, who held our purse.

"We got twenty gold and five silver from the bandits..." he began, silently counting them inside the bag, "...but if we sell the breastplate of the tall man-"

"Keep it." Ser Merill objected, letting out a yawn. "Keep it for yourself, boy. You've got no armor nor a proper blade. May as well take what we can and sell what we should." he remarked, looking at the ax and the two iron blades inside the carriage.

"Whatever is needed to be done, we need proper sleep." Lady Norien remarked. "Let's rest at the inn for the night and perhaps we can continue on the next day-"

"I agree!" I exclaimed, sitting inside the carriage as I looked out to them. "The stag isn't enough for the four of us, and the meat rots in two more days..." I told them, turning my head towards the remaining meat the stag left- a leg and some ribs, "...may as well eat it when we break our fast. Let's enjoy supper with whatever they've got over their fires inside."

Soon enough, a boy enters the stables. He was around ten or twelve, and he had hair that was as blonde as can be. "Can I get you anything, my lords?" he asked. Perhaps he recognized me and Lady Norien, or perhaps he merely saw Ser Merill in armor.

"Secure the horse, boy..." Ser Merill replied, trudging forward, "...and we'll be sleeping inside tonight. Have you got any food cooking around here?" he asked, his hand over his stomach. He really was starving for something... anything.

"Apologies, my lord..." the boy told him, "...there is only one bed inside left. The rest are already taken up by our guests." he replied with an ashamed look on his face.

The old knight turns towards us, and looks at Loran. "You willing to sleep in the stables?" he asked. Before the stable boy answered, he looked at the young boy again. "Will it please whoever's running this inn to have two men sleeping in his stable?" he asked, pointing behind him with his thumb.

"I don't mind sleeping with horse crap..." Loran told him, "...I've been a stable boy all my life, ser." he replied with a smile, already making himself a make-shift bed out of the straw and hay inside.

"My father's a kind man, but I will ask of your cost." he said as he ran off inside.

"I'll follow the boy." Ser Merill said with a tired voice. "Lord Orevian and Lady Norien will get the room..." he told us, making his way to the entrance, "...and I'll get us something to eat."

In the absence of Ser Merill, all that remained was silence. Nobody had the energy to speak, and Loran had already fallen asleep on his bed of hay, even though his foot laid on horse shit. Lady Norien could barely stay awake. It was as if she needed no such supper, but instead sleep and rest. I could barely keep my eyes open, sitting down on a stool while waiting for Ser Merill's return. That wouldn't come for a moment, until it finally did.

"My lord and my lady..." he said as he returned with a smile, "...supper is ready and the room is prepared. We only need five silver heads as payment." he remarked, proud of his work as the boy came inside with cooked turkey on wooden platters. There were no cutlery, only our hands could be used. Perhaps the southern folk enjoy eating with their hands, I thought, another thing that contrasted both our cultures.

"Thank you, boy." I said as gratitude. The boy left as fast as he went inside, and we were left to eat what we could.

Loran slept soundly with Caeris the rabbit on his chest, cuddled nicely, and the other piece of the turkey was given to Ser Merill, who ate it all as if he were a hound. A day riding will give you hunger, I told myself, with no food to eat? That's just cruel.

We finished the turkey and threw the bones away for the dogs to feast on. Soon enough, Ser Merill found himself asleep, and I found myself inside a room filled with cobwebs and lit lightly by two lanterns with one bed to share with a noble maiden. "You take the bed." I told her as I shut the door and locked it. I had learned plenty of lessons in the north, and if one thing was for sure, I was not about to let her get raped in my watch by men I did not know.

"Please..." she began, "...this bed's big enough for the both of us." she remarked. "A bed inside the castle would not be as small as this but this fits us both nicely." she said as she untied her hair, changing from dress to gown, her back turned to me as she took of her silk dress and changed into the gowns provided by the inn. Her skin was pale and smooth, and I turned and faced my back to hers.

Quite the rich inn, I thought to myself. Most inns provide beds only in the north, I recalled from my few times outside the city walls, never gowns and such.

"Northern folk are built different than southern folk..." I reminded her. "We sleep on raw hay in our castles and eat in cold halls. What difference does sleeping on the floor make?" I asked, looking out the window unto the village whose life was dwindling as the night arrived.

She drew a sigh and looked at me, one brow up and an open smile on her face. "You would pass down a bed for the floor. Why is that, my lord?" she asked.

"If a prince is to treat even the lowest of maidens with respect and dignity..." I began, "...what hinders me to give you the treatment you deserve?"

"And that is?" she asked, her arms crossed, her face was small, and her black hair was blown by the wind that entered the chamber.

"The best that I can give." I told her, stepping closer.

She stood up, facing me with a smug expression on her pale face. "Then, perhaps, you could treat me well by sparing me the guilt of making you sleep on stone." she told me, pointing towards the cold floor.

"I'd rather sleep on horse shit if you want me to..." I remarked, "...just say the word and I will make my way down into the stables and-"

"And what?" she asked, cutting me off. "Slumber with our mare and lay on litter? As if I would ever let you do such a thing." she stated, turning her back and sitting on the far side of the bed.

"Where would you have me sleep, my lady?" I asked, a smile on my face.

She gave an expression that bore a smile with a touch of frustration. She patted the straw mattress lightly. "Perhaps on a bed where we can sleep soundly, my lord. Come and rest with me, for I know you are tired...." she began, "...and if I had to admit it, then fine: I would rather rest knowing you rest with me than to let you sleep amongst the piles of crap outside." she finished, laying her head on the bed and looking up into the ceiling.

"As you say." was my reply as I crept slowly beside her, our heads near, and our hands touching.

As the night sank fully, we soon began to sleep. I close my eyes, and she closes hers. The wind whispered nicely and the children enter their houses to rest, just as we were about to. The sound of chattering mothers died down, and only the sound of crickets and birds remained. It was time to greet each other a sweet and gentle goodnight.