Reunion - Short Story

Reunion - The Story

We pulled ourselves over each narrow, yet short hill; the mud seeping into my heavy armoured boots, the gritty chainmail of my greaves causing my movement to grow sluggish, and the ever-returning thought that he still won't be here. BUT HE HAS TO BE HERE. We've confronted every camp, every watchtower, every outpost, every crevice of an off-town outhouse to find him huddled away in a corner, babbling about his treason, crimes and regrets, at least that's what I hoped for.

Every mission I'm sent on, we think we've got his location. But no, just another abandoned hamlet; I've tried to reason with the king time and time again that he is better alive to us than dead, I've known him better than anyone, I see his potential! But to no use... It's always the same: "I decline this absurd request Sir Tony. Bring me the head of General Charlie of The Tower of Grimestone! Dead and only DEAD." Well, that won't stop me, even if I must face opposition from my own king, so be it. Charlie is worth the sacrifice.

Finally, stumped and grounded, I climbed the last hill and stretched my head out to see the infamous Tower of Grimestone, a robust yet gloomy structure, with tacky guards everywhere, and a stone wall a few metres around the base of the tower. This was it, I turned to see my understandably tired and numb knights yearning for a second of breath.

We devised a plan for attack, with only dinky swordsmen abound the matte-black tower, this one was about to go just like all my other missions...

"CHAAAAARGE!" I yelled.

The sudden rush of danger, action and combat fuelled my thirst, we all ran headfirst into the tower. Quickly dealing with the guards outside the walls, before breaching the flimsy oak gate and meeting eyes with more grim troops, they looked parched and sore, and fought like squires, "HAH, is this the best you got?!" I blurted with pride.

Lost in the thrill of battle, a few small yet odd structures caught my eye; a weapons smith, a shack for grub and a hut filled to the brim with kegs of gunpowder. Why would a tower need all this junk? And flying past that hut of boom gave me a chilling image of what were to happen if that powder was lit.

Best not to dwell on it eh?

Moreover, our army was swiftly taking out the foes, even with just a dozen of us, we still kept on the fight, I felt like on top of the world! After taking care of all the guards in the walls - and after a sharp stylish smoulder - I forcefully pulled open the damp door to the tower itself, we were in - and met with dozens of sheepish eyes glaring back, shaking in their boots.

Gutting the last of the unexpected crew with ease, we made it to the second floor where we disposed of the last few men and to the third floor with more of the same, "They weren't even trying at this point!" I grew a large grin as I glanced to my army, proud yet woven. We did lose a few, but their sacrifice will be respected!

As I turned over towards the final flight of stairs, an orange hue of sunrays was beaming at the base. It gave me a sense of pride and joy to finally confront him. But. Some feeling welled up inside me. It felt wrong. I peered at my beaten knights to see what I was blind to before; their pain, their need for rest, their tears from lost companions, it struck me how I was treating them, and how unaffected I was by many brave and loyal soldiers dying and risking their lives for the king, and for me.

"Men. Leave the tower and rest. I acknowledge the suffering you endured through this mission; I'll deal with Charlie myself." I expelled a breath of guilt, and noticed some of their reactions, although their helmets hid most of their cold faces, the relief, surprise and little crumbs of joy were visible, that's all I needed from them.

Tired but satisfied, I gave a calmed sigh and slowly anchored my head towards the glistening staircase once again; ready to finally climb the unhinged and angular mountain. I grew close to the staircase and took the awaiting steps, shielding my eyes for a second from the ripe orange sunrays that overwhelmed my peripheral, before easily climbing up to come face to face with a figure I distantly recognised.