The valiant speech ended, followed by the soldiers who are awed, and was left stunned and standing motionless on the open plain. They were still trying to register everything Kent had just spoken off – the so-called; Capture The Flag.
With everything that was said and done, though everyone was clear on what was to happen, the soldiers still were there, almost in whispers to the ones nearby them. There was clear chaos among all the participants, with no clear figure filling in the leadership void that was left vacant after Deryk is not in control of them.
The knights were like innocent sheep, without a shepherd that pointed them in the right direction, they could end up tripping themselves, all whilst trying to find a rich field of grass that they are so desperately searching for.
Kent sat on a majestic stallion, a chestnut brown breed that has a wild personality. To his left, the sounds of horse hooves reverberated, informing him of the approach of another horse rider. "Milord, are you sure this is the best course of action?" the knight commander asked, reaffirming in doubtful demeanour.
Kent looked uncompromising at the men in arms. "Do you like wolves, Deryk?"
The knight commander was abruptly surprised at the sudden change in topic, but he nevertheless answered. "Not particularly, their pack mentality makes them destructive if they're not treated with caution."
"Ahh, but individually, are wolves strong?"
Deryk shook his head, "I suppose not, any men who have undergone sufficient training could battle a wolf alone."
"Then consider this, what makes a wolf pack so dangerous?" Kent smiled deviously.
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Men in arms were in disarray on the open fields. Whilst some were in social discourse over what was to do. Few emerged to lead their group. In one group, a man by the name of Trent approached the lord and the commanding knight in the distance.
With his grace and a knight's etiquette, he gave his formality to his superiors before withdrawing a green flag from Deryk's hands. With stern eyes, he accepts this green flag, before returning to his group of companions. The group have long grown silent, with them already observing what has occurred – that Trent has their 'flag'.
Trent walked passed the group, with them making way for wherever he was heading. A soldier spoke out. "Hey, where you heading?"
Trent didn't look back, with a snort he declared. "Preparing for victory."
Unknowingly, whilst the men in question, with his flag in one hand, and his supplies in his bag, marched to the distant hill, countless men followed behind him, still unsure why they are obeying Trent's orders so willingly.
"I guess our first shepherd has shown himself," Kent said under his breath, mentally noting down the knight that stood up to guide his group.
The lord looked at the three remaining groups that are still on the open plain, what will happen now? Will the other shepherds reveal themselves?
This event has not escaped the eyes of all the other soldiers. It was not long before two more representatives stood up, accepting the leadership position of their respective groups. The red and the blue flags were also taken.
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(A KNIGHT"S POV)
"I guess, it's only my group left then. Hey?"
I looked at my frail body, I recall the endless duels in which I lost to my comrades, and I reflect on the various arm wrestles I have lost. Am I worthy to even suggest myself being the leader of my group?
I looked around. Whispers of uncertainty and doubt surrounded the group, with me being able to smell the exponential crisis of which is an unrecognised leader of our group. My companions are doubtful, yet also questioning their own ability to lead as they comfort themselves to take the only remaining flag left.
Then, as I fidget with my fingers, I astutely noticed a young man, perhaps even younger than myself, with his hands grasped together to his chest, trembling as he walked forwards, away from the group.
No way, is he the man that will be our leader?
Such a shy and reserved character is going up to take the flag?
But before I can question myself more, I saw another man, with a brunt attitude, pulled the young man back so hard that he fell on the grassland. The beefy man, with his high stature and muscle, stopped to observe the young soldier. The powerful knight shook his head before heading toward captain Deryk to collect the only remaining yellow flag.
Wait, that stature which is almost a head taller than anyone, that long braided golden hair and beard, that muscular figure toned from years of training. Is that not Thormond, the long unofficially recognised the strongest man in Hestanar?
I suppose there's no need to sweat ourselves after all. With Thormond, we are destined to come victorious at this trial. Though I question what took him so long to step up. He is, after all, the most qualified of everyone here to fulfil this leadership void.
I sighed, as I calmed myself from my desire to take the flag by myself. How foolish was it of me to try and be the leader that I wasn't to be. I nearly ended up just like that young man other there. Truly idiotic of me.
There stood frozen as we waited for Thurmond to walk back to the group. What followed was a loud cheer and clap from our fellow knights as we all secretly approve of him as our leader. Uneven without verbal communication, it was all but confirmed he would be our commander for this trial.
The stoic man of which is Thormond stood like a towering figure in front of his group of men, a yellow flag in his right hand. He looked up at his members of the group, not knowing what to say.
"Say, what do we do? Thors?" a knight spoke out in a rather jovial, yet also cautious manner.
Thormond displayed no emotions, only staring emptily into the distance. "We'll see."