Three Kings: Part Three

Chapter 1

A war-worn land, spreading out for miles. There were no bodies or machines of war to be seen, but there were still signs of combat. Deep marks marred the countryside, curves and grooves implanting themselves deep into the earth. At random spots were planks of wood, half-submerged in mud. It was raining, as it had been raining for the last month. The sky was dark and the rain only seemed the heighten the depression which washed over the entirety of the place, a sigil of times to come.

And there, snaking its way toward the battlefield, was a caravan. It was large, nearly two-hundred men on horseback and in the midsts of the procession was a carriage that meandered slowly over the mud.

Not far from the battlefield, a squireboy rushed forward. His mouth was open due to his exertion and his clothes hung across his scrawny body. He dipped his head low as he began toward a tent. Behind the tent were fires, peppered across the landscape, surrounded by darkness.

The squireboy entered the tent, breathing heavily as he tried to steady himself.

Rausche looked up. "Yes?"

The boy took one more deep breath, and said, "Commander Rausche, it's...the king! He's here! He's coming right now, sire!"

Rausche glanced to the side. "Very well. No doubt he's hungry if he's come all this way. Get us some food, if you will."

The squireboy frowned. "Shouldn't we prepare, sire? Shouldn't we...I don't know..."

"I think the best thing to do right now is to get the king something to eat." Rausche peered at the boy. "Kings do eat, you know? I suppose they're just like us in this way."

The squireboy seemed to think about this for a moment, and then said, "I'll go right away, sire."

And so he did.

Rausche chuckled and shook his head, looking back down at the papers splayed across his desk and picking one up. King Anton's unannounced coming would postpone the commander's usual duties. It would not make him fall too far behind, but Rausche hoped there was a good reason for the interruption. He supposed there had to be. The king being here probably meant one of two things: either the war had taken a miraculous turn for the better, or it was business as usual and dire news was being brought. Rausche did not want more bad tidings. He had enough on his plate already.

The rain continued to pour as a group departed from the caravan now merging with the rest of the army at the front. Raindrops pelted the soldier's armor, the sigil of Haven embroidered on their leather chest-guards, that of the hawk with the arrows in its talons. The soldier's surrounded a man wearing felt and fur, with a crown atop his head.

Once again Rausche was interrupted, this time by two soldiers who held open the flap-door to the commander's tent. King Anton came in almost casually, taking a few steps and then smiling at Rausche.

Rausche went on one knee. "Sire."

King Anton touched Rausche's metal shoulder. "Rise, commander. We have much to discuss and not enough time."

Rausche nodded, lifting himself up and then going to offer the chair he had retrieved for King Anton. The chair was small, a commoner's chair made the commoner way.

"I'm sorry, sire," Rausche said. "This is the best I could do."

"It's fine, commander," King Anton replied as he sat.

Rausche got his own chair opposite of the king. The soldiers placed themselves at the entrance. The rain produced a methodical song as it pelted the canvas.

"So, Commander Rausche. How goes the war?"

Rausche was silent for a long moment. He blinked once, and said, "We've been able to hold back the Cellaphis, for now. This is the furthest they've ever been able to penetrate to the west, but this is where they will stay so long as myself and my men have anything to say about it."