The city was loud in the early hours of the morning. This was truer the farther out from the palace you were. The Inner Ring was often quiet until near noon, but the Outer Ring, where the work was done, would be quiet for all of the six hours that many of the tradespeople would allow themselves to sleep, four if they had a good head for business. This is something Redven hadn’t missed about the Outer Ring. But he did like the sense of life in the city. Always people moving, things happening. He felt strong in the city, he knew his own power and when he lived there, he could have slept in the middle of the road covered in gold coins and the worst that would happen to him would be an elderly lady covering him with a blanket so that he wouldn’t get cold. He was respected and popular.
His popularity didn’t come from his position alone. It came from how he treated the people he was there to protect. It came from the way he dealt with their problems and the problems they caused him. And the fact that he was a heavily decorated war hero didn’t hurt either, as most people in Amerossa saw it as the only safe haven in the land. Hearing stories about the forest to the east being filled with giant spiders and the demonic birds who prey on the weak who travel through the desert beyond the forest. With nature and its lesser inhabitants making the east seem like a terrible idea, the west is still battling with itself and on occasion with Amerrossa. Bandit crews, militias to stop the bandits, warlords who would make themselves king of lands they would steal, only to have it stolen from a rival warlord. If you were more than a day's ride from the city, you were in danger as far as the people of the capital saw it.
He made his way down to the tavern, greeted by a chipper Gunther who was pleased to have seen his old friend again, even if only for a short while.
“Good morning Sunshine, mead makes the morning merry!” he said, his arm outreached with a cup in hand.
Redven hobbled down the stairs towards the bar, alternating which eye he looked though before they inevitably and involuntarily shut themselves, his body convinced that he should still be asleep. He groaned at Gunther as he took a slow, steady swig of the sweet beverage. After downing the mead, he embraced Gunther and thanked him for his hospitality.
“Perhaps you’d stay another night, after your meet?” asked Gunther, keen to relive some of the antics from their past.
“I’d love to friend, but my world awaits me patiently not more than a day’s ride from here and I wouldn’t have them wait any longer than needed.”
“Well, just know that you’re always welcome and the women around here miss you more than you know,” said Gunther, winking and shoving Redven, which broke his stale expression into a cheeky smirk.
Chief Commander James Morhiem was a very laidback man when Redven knew him. His tactical acumen and combat skills were highly regarded and accurately attributed to his quick rise in the Amerossan military. He possessed an elegant intelligence which appeared to make great leaps in thought well before most had the chance to consider the situation. When he reached the same rank as Redven, he chose to take command of a city guard garrison rather than one of those attached to the army. Redven thought that it wouldn’t last very long and that he’d crave combat and the thrill of defeating an enemy, but Morhiem never returned to the army, despite his strategic mind having the room to thrive there. Instead he remained in command of the city guard, and was now one of the most powerful men in the city. Perhaps, Redven thought, this was his plan all along.
They met in the royal gardens in the Inner Ring under an old tree. The tree bloomed with delicate flowers whose aroma was sweet and refreshing. Throughout the garden Redven could see others having similar meetings, private and intimate. Men taking noble ladies through the flower sanctuaries, no doubt comparing them to the flowers or some such. Nobles speaking sternly to merchants, likely attempting to skimp on small amounts of coin as many of the poorer nobles did. The tree had a small table and two benches underneath it, the outdoor set made of a white marble. Despite the heavy furniture, it appeared that the grass beneath it was as green as the rest of it, which suggested to him that perhaps the furniture hadn’t been there very long. After all, he couldn’t see furniture anywhere else in the garden.
He sat and waited only briefly, before catching sight of Morhiem from of his peripheral vision. A man of average build and pale skin approached, with two armed guards seemingly attached to his tailcoat. Brown flowing hair cascading down to his shoulders, made of what appeared to be silk imitating hair. His light green eyes made them noticeable at a distance, catching Redven’s as soon as he turned his head to greet him. Redven stood as Morhiem approached and gave a modest, low bow. His bow was met by one much lower, Morhiem reaching the full depth by going down onto one knee, his entourage following suit.
“Greetings Commander Redven, I welcome you to this fine city and thank you for your prompt arrival” announced Morhiem in a very formal manner, his voice carrying its strong tone throughout the garden for some way, turning the heads of those who waltzed amongst the hedges. It was customary to be quiet in the garden, treating it much like a library. Of course, nobody would say anything about it, particularly to Morhiem.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“I’m happy to meet with an old friend, Chief Commander” replied Redven, who was made somewhat uncomfortable by the unexpected formality of the situation, extending his hand to Morhiem. Morhiem shooed his guards away as he shook Redven’s hand and sat at the table opposite him. They left without hesitation, seeing their master’s guest unarmed and seemingly friendly was enough for them.
The conversation was somewhat formal and predominantly small talk, Morhiem’s promotion came up as well as Redven’s new life in the eastern farmlands and the subsequent troubles he had caused the other farmers, but it wasn’t long before Morhiem could see on Redven’s face that he grew tired of the idle chatter and wished to get to the point. After all, he had travelled far enough from his family to cause worry and fear in his heart.
“I suppose it’s time to get to why I’ve asked you here,” said Morhiem, the tone of their meeting changing immediately with those words.
“I have asked you here because I have a proposition for you, a request from an old friend and a wonderful opportunity. Before you say anything, please just hear what I have to say,“ requested Morhiem, remembering the last time they spoke on similar topics.
“Our men are weaker for your absence, your training and command made them into the fierce warriors that have been protecting this city for decades, but the current trainers and commanders do not have the same instinct or knowledge you have. I would like for you to return to the city and live here in the Inner Ring, your only job would be to train the men. I’m not asking you to fight or be part of the guard. You won’t have to lead anybody, just turn the men from the sword swinging fools they appear as, into the ultimate defenders of human life,” said Morhiem, keeping steady eye contact with Redven, who had predicted the outcome of this conversation when he was asked to avoid interrupting. He noticed the careful wording of the request, seeing this as a manipulation of sorts. But Redven was not one to normally take the time to filter his thoughts before revealing them, so perhaps a measured response was best to match a measured approach.
He took a deep breath and made certain that Morhiem knew he was taking time to consider the offer, but Redven knew he would decline before he set to travelling here, he just had to find the right words. The farm kept him and his family safe because it was far enough away from this world of fighting and it was hard enough work that he simply didn’t have time to think about it. To move back, even into a training role, would likely spark the flame that raged in his heart before meeting Azura. He thrived on battle and combat, but it was all he had and meeting Azura showed him just how much more he could have. Redven’s passion for combat and particularly the duel between two warriors was one with which he had struggled with for a long time, often dreaming of defeating men in single combat only by a fraction, his armour and flesh torn to shreds but in the end he prevailed. Redven’s greatest shame was that he longed to lose. He had fought his whole life and it had been more than a decade since he lost a fight, his sword master was the last to defeat him, at which point he made Redven swear he would never lose again. The next time they fought, Redven won by simply never losing, he outlasted and defended furiously, knowing he didn’t have the talent or the skill to out manoeuvre or outwit his master. So he waited, patiently blocking every strike perfectly, making sure his footing was correct and he made sure of his surroundings, until eventually his master could no longer hold the wooden practice sword in the air, lowering his guard enough that Redven struck to his throat with all of his remaining might, stopping within a hair’s width of his master’s flesh.
“I can’t do it James,” began Redven “it’s just too much. I’m not the same man. My son can’t see me like that. I’m sorry, friend. I truly am”
“I feared as much. Well the offer stands and should there be anything I can do to sway your thoughts, I’m prepared to do it. Whatever it takes, make it known,” said Morhiem with a sigh, his hands meeting at the fingertips before clenching together in a combined fist. Redven stood and looked Morhiem straight in the eye as he delivered his goodbyes. Morhiem asked that he discuss it with his family and think it over.
That night Redven drank with his friend Gunther and gave him the time he had longed for, whilst partaking in some spiced mead from Gunther’s private stock, which in actuality was not so much a stash as it was a constantly replenished supply of his own brew which he refused to sell in the tavern for fear of anybody having any opinion on it. If they liked it he would have to make more and sell it, taking the fun and passion out of making it and if they disliked it he’d have to kill them. At least, that’s what he told Redven in his defence. Redven slept, but not well. Tossing and turning throughout the night, never finding a comfortable position. It wasn’t the bed or the alcohol that kept him awake. His mind raced through the same thoughts over and over, not able to let go of the anxiety he felt about going home. What would Azura say when she found out? He couldn’t keep it from her, he never lied to her and she’d ask what was so important that he needed to travel to the city. And what if she said yes and wanted to move here? What if he turned into his old self, would she still love him? Would his son end up the same?
Morning came all too quickly for Redven, feeling that he’d only just gotten to sleep. His goodbyes with Gunther were a little more emotional than he’d expected, from both sides. Gunther expressed his gratitude for Redven’s visit, promising to visit his family on the farm some day. Redven was pleased to hear it. The two embraced each other like two bears wrestling in play. His return journey felt shorter than the initial leg, though his horse was noticeably more worn out than last time. Redven’s excitement was met and surpassed by that of his family, Kairam dashing to his father at the door, snaring his legs with his entire body, tangling himself between them. Azura glided over to him, more radiant in his eyes than ever. Redven didn’t need to lose Azura to know her value to him, but the brief distance certainly made his heart grow fonder. Not one woman in Amerossa started his heart like Azura did, not even the young noblewomen of the Inner Ring. This was the life he needed. It may not suit the purpose that he fit so well, but it was the one that gave him the most joy.