worriors in love

What a beautiful evening it was when Knight was riding on the back of Adira, his worrier horse, surveying the beautiful countryside of his Kingdom. 

He now realized how much he treasured his country, his people and the civilization he had helped mould for the last ten years he had been a knight and a general in the King's army. How he loved the delicious cuisine his people prepared and then the wine his grandfather brewed. 

Everytime he came home for a furlough his grandfather was the first person in his town to know that he was home since his wine tavern was the first cottage in the very road that led to Solara town. 

He would tether his horse in the junkyard then secretly sneak into his grandfathers tavern hoping he wouldn't see him easily but the heavily imbibed men and women lavishing in the comfort of the warm cottage would always be his undoing. Especially an Old hag who never missed in the tavern for her obsession with wine.

"Behold Pompey the knight has arrived," this time she hummed struggling to get on her feet but she staggered back to the couch, the wine had gotten into her joints in great quantity.

Before he could salute the men and women enjoying their brew, his grandfather emerged from the left, slamming the heavy counter door that gave way into the counter of the tavern. Knight still wondered how the ageing man still managed to handle that heavy door every day considering his waning and age beaten framework. His spears were heavy but not in comparison to that mighty Iron door he had seen him open and close for the most time of his childhood.

"Look just who has visited me as it is his custom in these days of my old age," the Old man, with a genuine smile on his face spoke, heading to hug his hard to see grandson in those days.

"There's not a single day that I have not missed you my son," he muttered, sobs of joy trickling down his cheeks."Now that you have come back to me, Sit and merry your soul to get rid of the loneliness of the service," the old man said as he headed to the counter to fetch him a goblet of wine but was he interested in the wine anyway. 

"What's troubling you son?" the Old man meticulously asked after realizing that his grandchild was absent minded all the time he was extending him his goblet of wine.

"Nothing grandpa," he responded.

But his Old man couldn't take a mere Nothing for an answer, so he drew a seat and sat by his side and keenly observed Knight, looking him in the eye.

The always hawk-sharp eyes had turned red, tired and generally sleepy. His handsome face had abruptly become tired, the Old man had seen this face before not once or twice for he had raised the boy himself since he was a toddler and so he knew him in and out.

This must have been the same looks he saw when the boy's grandmother passed away, the same hopelessness he had seen when the King summoned and conscribed boys in the town to join the army. How afraid he was that he didn't want to end up like his father who died in far Lands in the King's mission.

"You can share it with me, Knight," at last the Old man spoke.

"Will I make it Gramps?" Knight asked in a low tone.

"Yes you will my grandchild," the old man uttered. "yes you will conquer all the kingdoms of the East and those who will stand your way shall feel the grill of your sandals–ofcourse they will resist a little but remember,my son, that he who wrestles with the winds will eventually fall with a great thud .I believe you my son and I know you will come back safe and sound. Your name will be a house hold name in our kingdom and all our neighbouring kingdoms will run to make treaties with us to save themselves from your sword, do you know what a favor you will have done our kingdom in these days when greed has seized the mental faculties of all men and they won't tire until they have crushed you to the ground and taken the treasure of your land and your women!"

The mention of women enraged Knight deeply so that he gritt his teeth and spat on the tiled floor of the tavern and swore by his god,

"If I was destined to fight to my last breath, If I was not meant to enjoy a bit of family life and if for my country to be safe I must lose my head in the battlefield then so be it for I swear by the gods that my unborn child shall not be raised in slavery."

"You are just as brave as your father pompey," the old hag who sat besides knight and who had previously seemed to doze off said sluringly,"unlike my husband who mutinied fled the land in fear of joining the army only to be caught and ripped off his status. Such a coward."

To this last statement everybody in the tavern including knight laughed and she culminated the laughter which buzzed in the room with a fit of ear-piercing wild cackling laugh.

Knight remembered the lores of his childhood about Craven, the man who was caught fleeing the King's decree on joining the army to protect the kingdom from invasion by the armies of Eldoria ,who were threatening to attack and colonize them. Craven was locked up waiting for his judgement day. And as the law dictated, he would either be hunged or would end in the guillotine.

On the day of his judgement the king stood on the rock in front of everyone and announced with a cruel voice,

"As it is our law and custom, a man who disobeys the military decree of the king by showing fear in the battlefield, or he who flees the army shall be guilty of an offense which is punishable by death."

The king then, pointing by his tongue the guards brought a man on tattered loins, soiled from head to toe, his head and beards clean shaven so that his skull reflected the rays of the mid day sun in the eyes of anyone who looked at him. He was actually an abomination who oughtn't live amongst the sacred men and women of the Kingdom, with him were two captured worriers of rival armies.

As it was the custom of the rather barbaric people, they showed no mercy on traitors or enemies so they demanded to be shown the prisoners. The prisoners were dragged around the rowdy crowds and the merciless people spat on them. Even the old had their filthy and smelly slime on the victims' faces, some even threw dust on them so at the end of the game the three were worse than wild pigs in the rainy season. they then were brought forward, ready to be slain.

The King lifted his mighty hairy hand in the air,his eyes were blood red and so was his hair, he possibly had come from onother bloodbath and he was already venturing into onother.

"A man who flees the battle is a man who flees life," the king bellowed and the crowds shouted in response,

"And so death shall he be granted,"

He then drew his sword from the sheath, lifting it up in the air and ooh! how it gleamed in the sun. It was razor sharp, so sharp that it looked as if it had recently been forged, ready to behead a man if the king just released it–that man was craven the coward– kneeling before the merciless king.