The sun moved across the sky, facing the century of eighty. Their faces were illuminated by a cold glow, their sight blinded. All they ever saw were the shadows of the men in garrison numbering in the hundreds like monstrous shades that sought only to kill. It was a sign that the heavens were not on their side yet the survivors, as they had lived through everything but ease, remained enduring. Even if they had to fight an uphill battle against the flares of the sun, they had agreed in their minds that whatever obstacle was to be set before them, they were to overcome it. But their sense of desperation ignored many more pathways that they could have taken without the prospect of battle whether that included joining the enemy. Without a single ladder, a ram, or anything that could be used to scale the walls of Medewen, those without ranged weapons could only pray that they would not be dishonorably slaughtered like animals. However, their standoff gradually insinuated so. Before the hundreds of barrels aimed towards them, the Lecher never faltered. Their legs may have begun to weaken and their hands perhaps did begin to tremble, but they swore to themselves that not an inch of ground would be given up, seeking to remain brave even in the jaws of death. Wondering who was to open fire first, both sides had long withheld their weapons. No more words of negotiation came and as time grew old, so too did their patience become frail. Their finger moved closer to the trigger and pressed their rifles into their shoulders. Like a feather-weighed switch waiting for a command, it felt as though one word uttered in random could send allies into needless bloodshed waged against one another. The battle drew closer to becoming a reality and the closest comrades of the Danner soon began to wonder also whether they had been wrong about their hope, that they would have been let in simply because they were too naive. Under the shadow of the gatehouse, he looked up to the balcony whose party of officers and the captain of the gate were staring at them down below. The captain’s aides gave him counsel and each fought for his attention, but they were just noises in his ears, buzzing around him. Since his decision to have placed his troops on standby, he had not listened to another word they said, that was upon hearing some footsteps approach him from behind, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder, and whoever he saw petrified him. Removing himself from the balcony, he disappeared from the century’s sight again. Maybe he had found some sense to hear out his comrades but in the half minute that he was away from command, his men seemed confused by the inaction. They turned to the gatehouse yet no order ever came. Some began to relax their arms thinking that they had somehow missed the order to stand down, but then, the captain reemerged. Pointing at the century, as if he was directing someone to see for themselves, the captain stood aside for a young man to leaned over the wall. He squinted, trying to understand their supposed enemy, and was searching for the boy that they claimed to be Danner. In the stalemate, in the silence, his search was concluded and his eyes widened in a shock of realization.
Holding onto his amulet, the air in the corporal’s lungs grew cold from the lies he had told and willed for warmth. “Rer Dorisk Kapidæng! (Captain of the Gate!)” Julien addressed in a commanding tone.
The captain could not ignore this summon that sounded to have come from a voice higher-ranking than him or the young lord. He ignored his commander to respond to the boy and turned his attention towards Julien. Although he had not planned to hear him out, before he could utter a word to silence him, the corporal interrupted him again.
“Huisk Schutt willenej wrefœjger, haben— (I do not wish to command you, but as—)” Unable to bear his own tone, Julien gritted his teeth as he said, his eyes shutting.
“Dorne œffnger! (Open the gates!)” Another saved him, that from the gatehouse.
Stunned, eighty pair of eyes turned towards the man who reprimanded the captain without his typical grace. After some harsh words which went unheard by most, he slapped him in the face. The sound of the smack was deafening on the soundless wall and the captain could only stand there, frozen. But his eyes told that he had grievously wronged someone of importance, slowly diverting his gaze to Julien. The corporal could not believe what he had heard but he was guilty of being it, whatever it may have been.
Before the young lord stormed off, he realized that his order had not been heeded, and brought himself to the walls to make his command be heard again. “Hœllæsk dorne œffnger, jeges befælen! (Open the damned gates, I say!)” Never have his men ever seen him as riled as then.
Returning on his way to the staircase, the lord straightened out his jacket. The captain’s aides gave way having heard the truth as well and saw to what he had meant. The century was left baffled as to what they had witnessed, but Julien, although he had feared for a moment, peered down to the earth. Cold sweat ran down his face as the cogs of the gatehouse finally turned and the garrison stood down their arms. Its chains began to draw awide the gates but the weight of the door took not only the machinery’s strength to open but dozens of soldiers too. With all their possible might, they pulled and drew open the gates. The light from the sun emerged from the other side that renewed the century’s hope that had been lost ever so briefly and before them was already the sprawling town that was Medewen which they did not think would be so close to the gates. Arminius looked at Julien, who he had not doubted that they would be issued passage, but he had not imagined that this particular lord would have a part to play in their rescue also. There, standing beneath the arch of the gateway was that same man. Before the gates had completely opened, he made his way beyond the walls, subjecting himself to the danger of the outside world and approached the century who had not yet moved. However, they found their savior to be nothing like the first impression he had given. This man was not naturally angerable for it was rare for him to have shown that side of himself. Bearing a soft smile that was not treacherous but welcoming, he held up a hand and commanded his entourage of guards to halt nearer the gates. Alone, the young lord came by the eighty.
Keeping some distance with their vanguard, he halted, and bowed deeply in front of Julien who had made it seem like he was the leader of the band. “Das djengding beschædet biten wregebung, fer wurnæsk hæssliket wrehaldne. (I apologize, sincerely, for the unseemly behavior of the men.)” Afraid that his allies had been insulted, the young lord mentioned foremostly.
“Allenej, es gud. (No, all is well.)” Julien replied, embarrassed by his overly kind gesture. “Wer kan lebernej witnej huisk wredschættet wœlwollding kommedhjer. (We could not have made it through without your being here.)” Suddenly, he spoke in a manner alike but his comrades could not tell for none spoke their language.
The lord raised his head and let off a slight chuckle, quickly coming to understand the corporal’s nature. He acknowledged his companions with a tip of his head who then saw him as their savior, returned the same gesture in gratitude.
Placing his hands behind his back, the garrison commander oddly did not face Julien when he spoke, almost as if he did not dare and had his eyes pointed at the ground out of respect instead. “For the sake of your men, I shall speak in de normet schpake.” His accent was as heavy as Julien’s was three years ago yet he spoke with an uncommon form and grace.
“They are my equals and comrades no less.” The corporal corrected him before he could mistake them any more.
Surprised to have heard him say so, the young lord was paused. As he moved his gaze upward and saw Julien’s eyes meaning sincerity, he smiled seeing a reflection of his younger self within him. Understanding his wishes, the lord righted himself and brought his hands forward again. The century began to gather around the Danner, impatient for entry, but discipline would not allow them to march on without any formal command.
Putting a hand on his heart, the lord adjusted his wrong. “Of course, forgive me.” He glanced at his comrades and whoever was nearest, he had sensed that they may have been the corporal’s closest companions, and was reminded by their unfamiliar faces to introduce himself. “I am Paulus Rantzau, Bœjgremæstre of Haven, I look forward to our cooperation.” said he.
Julien bowed in return, followed by his comrades who knew no better than to do the same, thinking that it was a common Danner greeting lest they offend their allies even more.
Holding up a hand, he pushed against the air. “Please, there is no need.” Rantzau stopped them.
The century was stumped, not knowing what to do, they turned to Julien for advice but he found it strange that a lord would deny their act out of goodwill too. Typically, they would have been too proud to have acknowledged them.
“Rather, I have become intrigued,” The lord made sure that they would not entertain the idea of a noble’s greeting any longer, he swiftly moved on. “If you are not de kommeneder, then who among you is?” Wondering, he searched the band of youthful soldiers, who confusingly to him, seemed most likely to hold the title.
They had never been asked this question and some were caught unprepared. The century chose not to speak of their answer but their eyes simply diverted their attention away from the lord to Arminius. Ushered forward, he was singled out, yet he stepped up to the task nonchalantly. Standing beside Julien, perhaps in case the Danner could not understand him, he held his friend in high regard and chose not to appear leading him.
Repeating his bow, Arminius responded, “I, my lord,” The boy spoke in a tone that was similar to both Danner. “Arminius Reichner, lieutenant-elect of the Krakau Army.”
“Well, for a soldier of your age, you must be quite talented to have earned the rank of ledne’d.” The lord praised him.
Although the lieutenant had nothing to say in return for never had he been complimented in this manner, it kept him quiet and thinking.
Rantzau saw the fixed expression of the century growing desperate for rest when he took a breath and held it in. “But enough of my words for I am sure your comrades are fatigued.” It was made clear that he did not wish to keep them waiting any longer to the honest jubilation of the eighty.
He turned around and found his entourage loitering, waving at them for their attention. When they saw their commander’s arm in the air, they scrambled away in an instant, returning to the safety of the walls in a rush to realize his command.
Having seen his subordinates away, the lord returned to the century. “Come, I am to return to Haven in a day’s time,” Rantzau gestured for his allies to follow on. “In the meanwhile, you are all guests of mine.” He added to the elation of the troops.
Gladly, the eighty trailed on behind him. For however long they were unable to, they could finally breathe freely without a sense of dread and unease. The presence of the lord was enlightening at least, never have they ever thought that they would encounter another man officed in a high post to be as similarly selfless as their general, being kind but commanding whenever it was needed. It felt as though they were being protected by his figure that was certainly warmer than the cold reception they had received at the gates before his arrival. Entering the fort, the eighty survivors who had seen the borders that was dashed between life and death were at last brought into the safety of the walls. Many dreamed of rest, even for as little as a day, before whatever else would follow. Whether it was to be their chores, their training, their patrols. At that moment, graced by an eventful end to their perilous journey, no one was there to complain.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2gKKqScvmP
