Degon II
*thump* *thump* *thump*
His sword crashed against the cloth covered dummy. The strikes were neither swift, nor calculated, but blunt and fuelled by raged. Maybe it would have been for the better if he had just asked for an axe and some logs, might had made some firewood along the way. His face was stiffly blank, almost inhumanely so, but all in the efforts of hiding his pure unyielding frustration towards the world itself. He stopped to take a look at the practice dummy, its outer cloth shell was shattered leaving the hard wood of the pole exposed.
“You must find your footing on your own Degon”
“If only you didn't drink and waste away all the time, you’d already be a man”
The words of his father hadn't left his mind since he uttered them. They had planted themselves onto his head and spread their roots to his heart and filled it with anguish. How could he not understand what he was asking of him? To be helped and given an opportunity. How did he expect him to have proven himself in combat or strife if there had not been any during his lifetime? He gripped his sword tighter, and looked at the dummy again, but he could only see his father in front of him, lecturing with deaf ears. He started swinging again, with even more anger than before.
*thump* *thump* *clang*
The sword chipped, scattering small silver shards across the dirt grounds of the courtyard. Degon let out a small grunt in frustration, then turn to face Sir Fergus Lothan, his personal guard, who was standing to his right.
“You know my lord, in practice, usually you are meant to break the cloth off the dummy, not your sword”
“Amusing Sir, as always, now fetch me another sword”
“As you please” The knight said before departing to the armoury.
Degon sat down on some crates that laid against one of the stone walls. He took a deep breath and took a sip from his waterskin while looking upwards, the sky was clear and the sun shined brightly, almost too brightly. His sight was sensitive from lack of sleep and a small amount of drinking, both of which he blamed his father’s words for. The king was set to depart at noon, and he was expected to bid him farewell. But the mere thought of seeing his father again bothered Degon to his core. The sun was almost at its highest, and time was running short.
The sound of moving pebbles pulled him away from his thoughts, it was Ferguswith his new sword in his hand. The knight threw the weapon at the prince, who cached it mid-air.
“I was thinking my prince, it would be for the better if you sparred with someone, to minimize the number of broken swords that the armourer has to wipe off the stock”
Degon unsheathed the sword and took a good look at it, then he moved his sight to the mangled dummy.
“You are right Sir; would you care to be my sparring partner? I must warn you that I'm not in the mood of holding back”
“How would it look if a knight of the royal guard was afraid of some swordplay? You humour me my prince”
“All right then, but do not complain to the nurse if I bruise you too hard” Degon said while putting on his helmet.
“I’ll try to not dent that shiny armour of yours” Fergus responded.
Both men split their legs into a combat stance and faced each other. A ray of sunlight reflected from the bright plate of Sir Fergus onto Degon’s eyes, which the former took advantage of and struck first with a fast thrust. The prince barely evaded the blow while shifting his placement to evade the blinding light, after which he made a couple of probing attacks to test the guard of his opponent. Fergus was a broad man, which gave his strikes superb strength, but he noticed he had been quite slow on his footwork, maybe he could tip off his balance with quick sudden blows.
He took a couple of steps back to lure him, after which Fergus followed him. Then in the middle of a step, he suddenly pressed his back foot against the ground and lunged forward with a strike, followed by another. This caught his opponent of guard, whose footing yielded and almost fell to the ground, stopping his fall with a knee against the ground. Feeling more confident, Degon lunged forward again to finish his opponent, but Fergus evaded the blow, after which he struck the sides of the prince torso with a thunderous blow. The prince stepped back sluggishly while gasping for air, leaving him wide open for two more strikes that he parried, but whose mere power almost made him fall. He tried to regain his footing, but he was interrupted by a swiping kick that pushed him to the ground. His armour loudly impacted the soil ground kicking dust into its every crevice and to his nose, causing him to take off his helmet so he could breathe.
His opponent took of his helm, revealing a mocking smirk and an extended hand to which Degon clung to.
“Would you like me to instruct the serfs to prepare a bath, my lord?”
“Spare me your pity Sir, I swear I could have beaten you without that sunlight”
“It's the sun who won't show you pity on the battlefield my prince, you should not make excuses out of your obstacles, but work around them, like a true warrior”
“Did they teach you how to be a true warrior in the steppes?” Degon probed him while he undressed from his armour.
“I like to think so, I'm well versed in most forms of combat, but over in the steppe we tend to prefer the spear and bow” The man said while grabbing one of the spears from a nearby weapons rack.
“A peasant's weapon and a coward’s one respectively, I'm surprised a member of the elite royal guard prefers them before a fine steel blade” Degon mocked him while inspecting his sword against the sun. “Look at how the shiny metal reflects the lords blessed light from its surface, it emanates honour and purity my friend, a thing that is foreign to most men of the steppe, I'm afraid”
Fergus gripped the spear firmly and in a swift motion, disarmed Degon by hitting his sword with the butt of the spear. He then struck him in the gut, again leaving him in the ground, then he spun swiftly and pointed the tip of the spear at his throat.
“The weapon is a trivial matter compared to the will of the warrior. When you go to war, no matter how fine the steel of your gear is, how finely bred your ride is, the victor will always be determined by your spirit, your might. Look at me, I come from a backwater village where I barely got to ate a meal a day if I was lucky, but that gave me the determination to change my path, to fight for it. On the other hand, you my prince were given all, but what you lack is motivation, that is what I think your father wants of you at least”
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“So... *cough*... you heard it last night huh” Degon said while dusting off his gambeson.
“Half the keep did my lord. King Bruce is known to have a powerful voice after all, which is good for riling up soldiers in a battlefield, but it does little concerning discretion” Fergus said while smirking and helping him stand up.
“What should I do, Fergus? I know I need experience, to prove to my father that I am worthy of my family name. I just... don't know where to start”
“What matters is that you are self-aware, that is the beginning of true improvement” He dusted him off as if he were a little child that had been playing in the grass, and handed him his sword. “I assure you, an opportunity will arise, you just have to look for it. Now go and take a bath, your father will be departing anytime soon”
They departed the courtyard and headed towards his room. He dismissed the knight and closed the door, then began to take off all the padding that was left from the armour. It uncovered a series of bruises in his stomach, that spear had done quite a job at leaving a mark. He examined and poked them a little, which made him flinch from the pain. Degon laughed at himself, his father was right, if a couple of bruises and a ray of sunlight were enough to bring him down, then there was little he could do in a real battle.
Since Degon was a child, he had been instructed in swordplay and jousting as most young boys are. He had learned to respect the rules and mechanics of honourable combat when he sparred with squires or other nobles, but deep down he always had known that it was a mere facade. Most told him that he had been lucky to have been born during peaceful times, where he did not see bloodshed and loved ones perish. But if the peace was so good, then why had they groomed him for combat and leadership? It's not like he was going to inherit anything noteworthy as the youngest son, but they still imposed that way of life on him, maybe so they could have a backup. That was all he was, a failsafe in case his brother met an unprecedented end and they had to scramble to secure the succession line. Maybe if his sister had been a man his burden wouldn't be so big.
He laughed to himself again, was it really a burden? Men before him had to die to defend their loved one's life in face of unbeatable odds, peasants worked their backs off in order to feed their families, and he called his situation a burden. After all, his life wasn't truly in danger, but weirdly it felt like he had a dagger pointing at his heart at all times, slowly pressing in the more he continued to be a disappointment.
He quickly shrugged that thought off and entered the bath. The warm water covered every crevice in his body and highlighted the pain from the bruises. The pain of practicing often gave him a weird pleasant feeling, but that day it was just pain. He kept submerging into the bath slowly, the water first covering his neck, then finally, his head. He closed his eyes and embraced the somber silence that the water gave him, it was suffocating and strangely comforting. Maybe that was the best way out, just keeping himself underwater, as the last breath of air escaped his body and darkness enveloped him. His chest diminished in size and his mind began to wander off, but suddenly, his peace was interrupted by a knocking on the door.
He emerged violently from the waters, gasping for air and scrambling for his towel.
“Who is it?” Degon shouted to the other side of the door.
“The king demands that you hurry my lord, he will be departing soon” Fergus hurried the prince.
“Allright Sir, I will be out in a moment”
Apart from seeding doubt in his mind, that old bastard didn't even let him take a bath in peace! Did he really want to reach Immen with that much haste only to be surrounded by bishops and nuns while kneeling to the withering patriarch of the faith? If he wanted to see a corpse that badly, he could just ask to go to the dirt crypts again.
Degon dressed up as fast as he could and darted outside to join the knight, then they made their way to the main gate that led outside the keep. Flanking the dirt road that led to the outer wall were columns of the red guard of the Einns, while the mounted royal guard that would accompany the king was waiting in the middle. His sister was waiting to the side of the gate with sir Roux and other members of the guard.
“About time you showed up brother” His sister said while giving him a blank expression.
“Not that I was going to miss much, they made me leave my bath and the king isn't even here”
“It doesn't even look like you bathed at all, I can still see some patches of dirt in your arms, and your hair isn't even dry? And don't get me started on your clothes, not only did you not bring your royal brooch, but your vest-”
“All stand firm for the king of the realm!” Shouted Sir Roux, interrupting his sister.
He couldn't remember the las time he was so glad to see his father arrive, maybe when he got lost while hunting in the forest in his youth. The guard firmed their footing and saluted the king while he exited the gate and came to face the siblings.
“Josephine, Degon, I trust you both will represent the interest of the crown in the coming days while I take care of this task. Believe me that not only you will stay at one of the most hospitable and safest fortresses in Ralithien, but also you are under the care of the experience Willford Roux, so your safety will be the least of your worries”
“Can't you really tell us where you are heading father?” Josephine asked worriedly.
“My dear flower, always so preoccupied with the fate of this old fool” The king said while caressing her cheek. “No danger will befall me in this journey, believe me”
“It's just that is all so sudden... and look at your guard, there are only ten knights that will ride with you, that is not even half of the ones that came with us in the first place”
“They are no ordinary knights my dear, you already know that, and we must be few for hastiness is of utmost importance” The king calmed the princess.
He looked at his daughter and gave her a hug while Degon looked silently. Then his father moved to the side to face him.
“And I also trust that you will protect your sister and the interest of your king, Degon”
“The latter seem like the only thing you worry about these day's father, but do not worry, I will make sure to leave the lords of the north with the signature royal courtesy, my king” Degon said mockingly.
His father’s face shifted bitterly for an instant, but then returned to his calm self.
“Make sure you do just that and nothing more, Degon” His father responded while putting his hand in the prince’s right shoulder. The king then stepped forward as to try to hug him, but Degon awkwardly squirmed back. His father gave him a brief pained look, but quickly stepped back.
“And as for you, Sir Roux, keep your men alerted and your guard up, I could have not left a better man to care for my children”
“As always my king, every man here will gladly give their lives to stop any harm from reaching the princes” Sir Roux eagerly responded.
His father gave him a smile and then headed to his horse, which he then mounted and turned to face them once again.
“I will make sure to write to you and your mother as often as I can, farewell and may the lord watch over us all”
The king then turned and hurried his mount while heading to the outer gate, the then knights of the guard following trough. Degon turned right to his sister, her eyes were slightly wet from tears.
“Are you really crying sister? I thought the only toddler in the family was Lilith” He mocked her.
His sister looked at him with disgust, and slapped him.
“You are always so insensitive, you blunt fool, don't talk to me until we return to Dachaig!” She yelled at him while she paced back into the keep.
She was against him too now, huh? He truly couldn't have a break. He looked to his side to Sir Roux and Fergus, but the knights gave him a disapproving gaze.
“Maybe it would for the better if you returned to finish your bath my lord, your sister wasn't lying about the dirt” Fergus said while putting a hand in his shoulder.
“You too? It looks like the world itself is against me today, for the lord’s sake, I will make my way to my room by myself. In the meantime, you two better tell the servants to polish my armour and fix the dents you left on it today, Sir Fergus”
“As you command sir” Fergus responded bluntly
“And I am no sir, I am your prince, now scramble all of you, you won't be of no-good standing idly”
“Forgive us my prince, we will be on our way” Sir Roux apologize signalling the guard to retreat inside the keep.
Degon rapidly began his journey back to his bedroom. Again, he was full of so much rage he felt, his face was probably as red as a tomato. He looked back at the farewell and wondered why had he dodge his father attempt at a hug. It had caught him by surprise, as the last time he had hugged him when he was 13 years old. It seemed that the old bull was getting soft as the years got to him, but that didn't mean that Degon would be more forgiving. After all, if his father truly wanted him to toughen up, he would make sure the king got just that.