In addition to the king’s request for Damian, who readily prepared, the captain chose Benning and Cormac to accompany me. Over the past weeks, Damian and I had become true brothers. Ironically, the man who first wanted to break my bones upon first meeting was now the man I trusted most to protect and keep me safe. The king, in his knowledge and wisdom, knew what he was doing when he chose Damian to go. Benning and Cormac were two of the other finest guards the king had. As loathe as I was to take any of the king’s guard from him, I was pleased with all three selections. Over the many months of training, I had sparred with, conversed with, and built bonds of friendship with Benning and Cormac as well and I knew them to be as fine of men and warriors as Damian himself.

We wasted no time in making preparation for our journey. Together, we quickly prepared the necessary supplies for the journey, which was minimal. Riding as hard and fast as we could, these supplies were limited to dry tac that we could eat while riding, and ensuring our canteens were full of water. Fresh food would be supplied at each stop with the fresh horses. We would sleep, when necessary, in our saddles as we rested the horses in between gallops. Always one of us would be awake but as needed, we would rest without stopping. Having ensured we had what we needed for the first leg of our journey, we crashed onto our bunks and grabbed a few hours of sleep.

Waking at first light, we dressed in our lightest clothing and gear, grabbed our packs with the days rations, and headed to the stables to collect our horses and set out without delay. There was an unspoken anticipation among us for the day’s journey and we were anxious to be under way.

We were surprised then when the king himself greeted us at the stables. Taken aback, we almost forgot to bow in respect and submission to the king. He stood gazing at us, without speaking, for a few moments. As anxious as we were to get under way, we knew better than to rush him or speak. There was something in his expression that eased any tensions from being delayed in our departure.

“Valiant, in the short time you have served me, you have become the finest banner bearer I have ever had. You have understood this role and task better than any before you. Damian, Benning, Cormac, you are three of the finest soldiers and men I have at my disposal.”
Shifting his gaze to Benning and Cormac, “I am pleased at the captain’s choice to send you.”

Looking at all of us now he warned, “I truly have no idea what you are riding into. With both militia and defectors alike, I do not know how dangerous this ride will be. I am still fearful of the defected soldiers stirring up others to join their cause. And I still do not know where they are hiding. I have sent out scouts throughout the land seeking information about their location and intention. I send you into the unknown. Protect each other. Be wary, be alert, and be safe. It is not only servants and subjects that I send, but friends.”

With that, he gripped us each by our forearms, not as a servant or subject, but as friends. For the second time in only a few moments, we were taken aback, humbled by his embrace and words.

After he left, we glanced at each other. As hardened of soldiers as my comrades were, tears glistened in their eyes as they processed the kings’ words and actions. We lingered only for moment longer. The king’s departure restored to us the urgency of getting under way and with only a moment dedicated to reflecting on what just took place, we soon found ourselves jumping into action. Within moments, we were riding hard out of the stable, through the city, and into the vast countryside headed to our destination as fast as our fleet horses would carry us.


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The week’s ride was brutal. We only ever left our saddles when we changed horses or when it became necessary to relieve ourselves. Fresh horses and food were prepared for us at perfect intervals so that the horses would not become exhausted to the point of collapse and so that our pace never slowed. As needed, we would strap ourselves to our horses and catch whatever shut eye we could as we were led by our comrades. In this way, we made the trip in just over 5 days, a record speed.

We reached the garrison toward evening on that fifth day. As we neared the garrison, we slowed the horses. Retrieving the king’s banner from my pack, I began to assemble the pole and attach the banner. For the sake of speed, we had decided the banner would remain stowed until nearly at the garrison. As I worked to assemble the pole and banner, we relished the momentary respite from the intensity we had been keeping.

As we had been nearing, a sense of unease and uncertainty crept in. Even as the others waited for me to finish my task, they danced nervously on their horses, casting their glances about us warily. The ride had been uneventful and unopposed. However, the location of the defectors was still unknown, and our guard remained high. Our uncertainty as to what to expect upon arrival left us all with a sense of anxiousness that we were all unwilling to discuss but that we knew was present in all of us. We were anxious to arrive and see the condition of the garrison but fearful of finding none left faithful to the king.

Having assembled the pole, we hastened our pace once more and after another 20 minutes of riding, the garrison came into view. The sun was already beginning to sink low on the horizon. The walls of the garrison rose against the horizon like a mountain face at the edge of a valley. The watch towers rose high above the top of the wall and stood in watchfulness over all the surrounding land. Though we could not yet see the men within keeping watch, we knew they were there, and we knew they could see us. There was little to obstruct the view of the garrison from their vantage point and it was their job to be alert and attentive at all times.

As we came within a couple clicks of the garrison, the gates parted and a detachment of a dozen horses bearing riders exited through the gate and made directly for us. As they neared, we slowed our pace from a gallop to a canter and finally to a trot as they drew near. Forming a circle around us, the leader stationed himself directly in front of us. His face bore confusion.

“What is the meaning of this!?” He barked. “You bear the kings banner, but the king is not present among you. Explain yourself.”

The brisk tone of his order put all four of us on edge. On one hand, I understood. It was not customary for the banner to ride without the king. It was unusual to say the least. However, on the other hand, the king’s banner always bore the authority and representation of the king. It would be foolish to bear it in such a broad manner as we were doing without the full authority and weight of the king behind it. The mere presence of the banner ought to have invoked confidence, hope, and joy that the king (or in this case, his representative) had come.

Glancing around, I quickly noted that the detachment of soldiers that greeted us were tense. Their weapons were sheathed and stowed, but their hands were poised and ready to draw and equip them at the slightest threat or command. The lead rider, the one who addressed us, bore a stern and guarded expression.

Believing it best not to keep them waiting, I spoke. “I am Valiant, servant and banner bearer to the king. We have come on the authority of the king himself to bring you news. The king himself is riding to your aid with a detachment of soldiers. They are set to arrive within two weeks’ time. He has heard of the conflict here and of the recent defection of soldiers and is coming himself to provide aid.”

At the mention of defection, there was stirring amongst the soldiers, a fidgeting of horses, and the lead rider’s expression hardened even more. What was noticeably absent was any sign of rejoicing or thankfulness at the coming of the king.

With a coolness that exposed his skepticism, the rider spoke simply, “I see.”

Falling silent, he considered us with cold, unblinking eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I was aware that Damian, Benner, and Cormac were tense, hands over their weapons, ready to strike.

“Who are your companions?” He demanded.

“Damian, servant, guard, and friend to the king.” Damian urged his horse forward a few steps so that he was out in front of me now and only steps away from the lead rider. I was struck by this answer, particularly because of his inclusion of the title, friend. I had never heard Damian use that expression or introduction before in all the time I had known him. Reflecting back on the king’s words at our departure, I was suddenly aware of the full impact of his words on Damian. His love for his king was rich and deep. I had seen that from day one. I had never truly stopped to consider how deeply the kings’ words of friendship would have affected this man who had suffered mortal wounds in the service of his king. There was an air of confidence and joy that exuded itself from him as he sat erect in his saddle and addressed the man.

“Benner, servant, guard, and friend to the king.”

“Cormac, servant, guard, and friend to the king.”

Their introductions came from my right and left respectively where Benner and Cormac had stationed themselves, a protective positioning that was not lost on me. I was now in the midst of the three of them, their stances poised and ready to defend and protect if they deemed it necessary or if any threat presented itself. My free hand drifted to the hilt of my sword, and I was even more keenly aware of the weight of my bow quiver on my back.

Their positioning and stance was not lost on the lead rider, either. He eyed each one of us, his eyes roaming between us, noting their readiness, noting my own weapons. His eyes narrowed when they took in the sight of my weapons. I could almost hear the internal dialogue he had with himself upon the sight of an armor bearer being equipped with weapons. This was, no doubt, a new and strange sight. I suddenly realized as well, my bearing weapons likely aroused suspicion as to the authenticity of my claims to be the kings banner bearer. Never before had they carried them. For all he knew, the banner could be fake.

Tension grew as he silently observed our group. His hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword. The reputation of the king’s guard was well known throughout the land and army. These three men could have easily engaged with these riders and even come out victorious. My skill, though not as seasoned as the rest, was also now being calculated into the mix. I could see the evaluation and calculations being done behind his eyes as they flicked over us. I resisted the urge to reach for my bow, poised on my back ready for quick retrieval. My hand resting on the hilt of my sword, strengthened its grip ever so slightly. In the blink of an eye, should the need arise, I could switch from being banner bearer to solider, appropriating whichever weapon I needed for combat. For weeks I had trained on this very thing. I knew how to quickly slide the banner into the holster prepared for it on my saddle and simultaneously draw my weapon to attack.

I saw the rider notice all of this in the blink of an eye. He was well seasoned and prepared. His expression at their introductions lightened some. But whether because he was put at ease or because he suddenly understood who he was facing and grew more wary, I was left to wonder at.

His next words, though, answered that very question on my mind.

“Your reputation precedes you, Damian, guard of the king.” The rider spoke. He gaze softening, “I am sorry about Selman. He was a good man, a good soldier. He spoke highly of you. His loss is great. It heartens me to see you survived the ordeal. We never received word of your fate.”

The rider extended his hand in welcome and greeting to Damian. “Commander Barrak at your service. Sorry for the rough greeting. We are a bit on edge these days.” Looking at us all, he continued, “Welcome banner bearer. Welcome soldiers of the king. Your coming is welcome, and your news is a relief.” His face finally softened, and a sense of weariness crept into it. The strain and difficulty of the past months with the attacks and defection became evident on his face.

“Come, let’s get you settled and give you some rest from the journey.” He turned and began to trot back toward the gate. Together, his riders and we rode together through the gate and into the garrison.

They quickly sent stable hands to take our horses to the stables and to tend to them. On foot now, Commander Barrak himself escorted us to the command center at the heart of the garrison. As he led us, we noticed the ruins of several burned-out buildings. Nearby, several tents had been erected.

Damian inquired, “How many soldiers were killed when the defectors burned the barracks?”

Commander Barrak halted and glanced in the direction of the ruins. In soft voice, “Twelve.” His voice was so slow we barely heard him. The angst in his posture, the rush of anger that rushed into his features was sudden. We waited in silence.

Breaking his gaze away and looking at us now, he continued. “The emissary was their target. The other twelve were just collateral damage. The burning of the barracks prior to their departure was their distraction. We have had to make do with tents. Most are sleeping on the ground. We did not have many cots. We rotate through the ones we do have so that each get a break from the hard ground, at least every several nights.”

“Have there been any more attacks, either from the defectors or from the insurgents?” I inquired.

“No.” Barrak responded. “We remain vigilant though. The news you bring of the kings coming is welcome news! We fear with the defection and death of our soldiers, our numbers would not be able to withstand another attack. I just hope that the king arrives before we have to worry about it.”

At his words, we fell into a sober silence. The mood was bleak as we continued our walk through the garrison, taking in the damage and noticing the downcast mood of camp.

We arrived at the command center and were introduced to the commanding officers, all of whom appeared weary and wary. Barrak and his officers conferred privately at the back of the room for a few moments, leaving us to attend awkwardly to ourselves, uncertain of what to do while we waited. It was clear that order had been disrupted and this garrison was doing their best to hold things together.

They returned after a few moments. Barrak motioned for us to follow, and we exited the command center. He silently led us to an adjoining tent that was positioned just a few spots from the command tent we exited.

Gesturing at the tent, Barrak offered, “As the king’s envoy, you will be given the tent of my officers. The officers barracks were also destroyed. We do not have any extra tents so you will take this one. They are among the few who have cots. Practically speaking, the cots afford better rest. And better rest results in sharper alertness, which I need right now from my officers. But in light of the circumstances, they will have to make do on the ground. They will move to the tents with the rest of the soldiers.”

I was taken aback by the offer and protested, “No sir. We do not mean to displace anyone, let alone your officers. We are content to bunk with the rest of the soldiers on the ground. You need your officers well rested.” I was fearful of the officer’s resentment at being displaced for us. Things were already tense here and I had no desire to make it worse by displacing soldiers so that we could have more comfortable accommodations.

Barrak regarded me briefly. “Banner bearer, I thank you for your words. You would be the first banner bearer I have ever met that was willing to forgo luxury and privilege. Not that this would be considered luxury, but no, this will be. How would it look for the king to arrive and see that his envoy, sent to bring tidings of his coming and to instill hope and confidence in his troops once more, was not being afforded the honor of the king’s authority and dignity. No, it is appreciated, but you will bunk together in the officer’s tent. It is not much, but it is the best we have right now. Besides, my officers are men of good repute. They offered. I did not order it.”

I dipped my head in acknowledgment and appreciation, humbled at the sacrifice and treatment we were receiving.

“Besides,” he continued, “there is still a great deal of unrest here. There are still rumblings of others defecting. Not everyone here is going to be happy or thrilled at your arrival or at the news you bring. You need to be on guard even here. Not everyone is necessarily friend. We are not sure how many or even who are on the brink of defecting. Many who have already defected were a shock and surprise to us. We are teetering on a cliffs edge right now.”

His words left us all sobered and quiet. He invited us to deposit our belongings and then posted two of his most trusted soldiers to guard it at all times, again citing the unrest as the reason for it. He then showed us to the bathhouse where we cleaned up and then to the dining area where we grabbed some grub before retiring to our tent to rest from the long journey we made. Not fully trusting our surroundings and in an abundance of caution, we decided to leave at least one man awake to keep watch and guard at all times. Given the defection and the unrest, we did not want to entrust our lives to even the commander or his guards, for we truly did not know even where he stood. The hardness in his demeanor that we observed upon arrival was real enough and could make him a possible defector. His guards could rather be spies for his purposes more than guards for our protection. For this reason, even when we went to the bathhouse and dining area, we took anything of value and importance with us, which was frankly most of what we brought since we traveled light. And we most certainly never left our weapons. We each felt the tension and struggled to relax. We knew that that tension we felt was only a hint of what this garrison felt and had been feeling for some time. Even as we prepared to rest, we prayed the king, and his reinforcements would arrive quickly.