“‘I will never compromise. We will never surrender！’” The man beside him wrestled with his horse’s reins, attempting to steer the agitated beast back onto the path. He loosened his grip to gesture animatedly, his words laced with bitterness. “That’s what the fucking bitch proclaimed. Gods, the audacity of her tongue!”
“What grievance do you have against Queen Cynthia?” Karl replied casually. He wasn’t particularly fond of the knight riding beside him, having only heard his voice for the first time a few minutes ago. They hadn’t even exchanged proper greetings.
“I’ll tell you, young man. All queens are vipers! Adders in silken gowns!” The knight flailed his arms, his mount clearly displeased with its master’s thunderous voice and once again veering off track. “That vile woman! Who doesn’t know it was she who poisoned the king’s mind into leading the army to Cirvi’s aid? And what happened? Both of them got what they deserved! The queen became the ruler, while the king…”
“I wouldn’t know, dear knight,” Karl interrupted, cutting off the man’s unfinished rant. “And I dare say, neither do many others. After all, these are but rumors—rumors you seem to have plucked from thin air.” With that, Karl urged his horse forward, overtaking the knight, who remained behind, still spouting desperate justifications for his tales.
His chestnut mare left several knights in her wake before falling into stride with a black mare. The rider of the black horse was a knight clad in silver armor, his shield so ravaged by battle that its emblem had become an indiscernible maze of scratches. The only sign of vitality about him was the tri-colored plume adorning his helmet, dancing gracefully with each step.
The three feathers danced in the night air, bobbing and weaving like flames in a hearth.
“What troubles you, Karl?” The tri-colored knight spoke with a spirited tone. “Weary of our resident chronicler? He claims to have the most reliable intelligence from his squad leader!”
“Curse those damn gossips, you feathered fool,” Karl grumbled. “Even my daughter’s bedtime tales hold more truth than his prattle.”
“Ha! That I can believe, Karl!” The tri-colored knight’s laughter rang clear in the night air. “I’ve met Emmy. Those pouty little lips of hers weave magic with words. How old is she now? Five, if memory serves?”
“Four, Taylor,” Karl’s mood brightened at the mention of his daughter. She’s four, the little rascal. “You saw her not too long ago. Must your memory be as fickle as spring weather?”
“Alas, such is my curse, Karl. My memory is a sieve, I fear.” Taylor removed his helmet and hung it from the saddle, droplets of sweat gleaming on his brow in the evening breeze. “Truth be told, I envy you. So young, yet blessed with such a precious daughter. While I… I have a wife, true enough, but our hopes for a child remain just that—hopes.”
“Patience, featherhead. Trust in time,” Karl offered consolingly. “Just ensure you don’t neglect your nightly duties with your sweet cherry blossom. Nature has its way of rewarding persistence.”
Both men shared a knowing laugh before falling into comfortable silence.
“How’s Daisy? I didn’t see her during my last visit,” Taylor broke the silence, steering the conversation forward.
Karl scratched his nose. “You mean back in March? Yes, she was out then, delivering barrels of wine to the governor’s estate. How else do you think a knight like me secured a place in this Godma expedition? You, of all people, should understand that.”
“Ha!” Taylor burst into hearty laughter, startling birds from their perches. “I can’t believe you actually followed through! I was merely jesting back then, but you’ve got real courage. Then again, so do I.” Realizing his volume, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Currying favor with that cunning old fox cost me several precious vintages, I tell you.”
“We share the same burden, Taylor,” Karl sighed. For Daisy and Emmy… I’d face a thousand cunning foxes. “For wife and child, sometimes a man must sacrifice his earthly treasures.”
“Who? Whose wife? And who has a daughter?” The sound of approaching hoofbeats was accompanied by that insufferable voice.
“Oh… merciful heavens…” Karl groaned, clutching his head dramatically, while Taylor leaned in to whisper mischievously, “Look, our distinguished commentator returns!”
The armored knight’s approach was heralded by the symphony of clattering plate mail. His mere voice seemed to send all living creatures scurrying for cover. “Greetings, fellow knights!” he called out.
Without awaiting their response, he pressed on, “You two look remarkably young.” He studied them with scrutinizing eyes. “Such youth—surely volunteers? Ah, all thanks to His Imperial Majesty’s proclamation: ‘All who volunteer to aid the Godma Empire’s northern campaign shall receive three thousand glens, with distinguished service earning titles and lands!’ That declaration has led many astray!” He gestured behind them, drawing their attention to his indicated direction. “Observe that sea of darkness back there?” He pointed toward the massive crowd. “Among the Godma regular infantry, you’ll find mercenaries, farmers, cooks, merchants, carpenters—every trade imaginable. Would you believe, just days ago, after seizing Cirvi, I witnessed a foot soldier using his broad-tipped spear to till soil! When questioned, he simply replied, ‘Tending to the seedlings, Sir. Such fine earth mustn’t go to waste!’”
He roared with laughter, his mount releasing a soft whinny of long-suffering patience before dropping its head in apparent surrender. “It truly baffles me how such folk join our ranks and manage to avoid being hewn down like wheat before the scythe.”
If not for those farmers, what would fill that bloated armor of yours? Karl scoffed inwardly. Taylor, meanwhile, remained silent, his gaze fixed upon his black mare’s flowing mane.