There was a scraping of metal on the ground. A small boy was dragging a huge sword behind him, almost twice the boy's height. Behind him, there was a long furrow of earth left by the heavy sword. Panting and laboring, the boy dragged the huge two-handed sword behind his lord with sweat and difficulty. The lord himself, walked ahead, enthusiastically sucking on a cherry pit, his mustache did gymnastic movements with each cluck. After sucking a cherry pit to the end, he took the next cherry out of his bag and began to eat it.

Behind and in front of them walked a huge column of soldiers, all clad in bright scarlet armor, each shoulder bearing the glowing emblem of the sun framed by a sword. The whole procession marched to Castle Weytenford. Recently, the Empire's command had received word of an imminent attack on the castle by Mersians. So they sent in the 4th Infantry Division of the Diolas Empire to prevent the attack.

- Aah! I'm so tired! How this sun stings! I'm sick of it all! It wasn't fitting for a decent man like me to walk through this mud for two days without encountering a single enemy to prove my bravery and honor in battle! Ehhh.... Ugh. Jack! Get me some apple juice, I wish to drink!" spitting out a bone imposingly, Sir Cristran turned to his squire.

- Of course, sir!" The little squire carefully put the sword on the ground and began to remove a huge bag from his back, picking a little, he pulled out a liter porcelain jug of juice and with a bow, handed it to Сristran.

Cristran, swallowing greedily and wiping the sweat from his third chin, sucked his lips on the jug, taking frantic gulps while holding his sausage fingers to his stomach, holding it in check. The squire watched furtively as his master drank and gulped painfully.

In an instant, the jug was empty. Sir Cristran lifted it into the air and with his mouth open, stuck out his tongue to catch the last drops flowing from the jug. Jack saw the drops of juice, glistening with sunlight soaked into his master's mouth, he saw his thick mustache glisten, wet with juice or sweat. The world around him swirled and blurred for a second, but he quickly pulled himself together and took a respectful stance, standing before his lord and waiting for the empty jug to be handed to him. But instead he was struck in the back of the head with a plunge of the palm of the hand. The world began to fill with color again. He stumbled and fell into the dirt.

- Have you forgotten what I told you last time? You tramp! Don't put my precious sword on that mud! If I see that again, next time my palm will be in an iron gauntlet!" Сristran stomped his foot and the mud from beneath his boots poured into Jack's blond hair. With a smirk, he took out his cherry again and walked on.

Jack remained lying in the mud, unmoving, as columns of soldiers passed him, throwing their curious glances at the hunched body. Before long, he was up. Keeping his head down, he waddled to the sword, shoving it on his back, where a huge sack already lay. With tiny steps, he walked toward where his lord had gone. A few tears fell into the mud and disappeared, under the boots of the marching warriors.

***

Leylel Valley, 1 hour's walk to Castle Weitenford.

The entire infantry division stood on the approach to the castle, pitching tents all over the valley. There were several reasons for not camping in the Castle itself: first, there were too many of them to fit in a small backwater castle on the frontier of the Empire, and second, they had not yet received permission to enter the Castle. The commander of their division rode ahead to the castle to negotiate with the castellan about plans for defense or attack, as well as permission for the aristocracy of the division to enter the castle. Such an aristocracy was Sir Cristran.

Now he stood on a small wooden podium, clad in magnificent armor, his golden cloak hanging to the ground behind him with his familial emblem on the back, and he stood in a proud pose, holding his lion-shaped helmet in one hand and his fine two-handed sword in the other. Around him ran and fidgeted his squire, Jack. With a rag in his hands, he spun around the majestic statue of Сristran and rubbed his armor to a shine. From the surrounding soldiers, Сristran caught envious and contemptuous glances, but he took them as admiration for his immense majesty. His face was relaxed, he caught the sunlight on his face, his mustache and small beard heated warmly. He stood enjoying the breeze and the hum of the military camp. Suddenly his face wrinkled slightly.

- Jack! Rub harder, you filthy pig! Do you want me to enter the castle in an inappropriate manner for a knight of my level?!" with these words, saliva flew from his mouth and flew straight into Jack's forehead.

- No sir, I will rub harder so that everyone in the castle will see your magnificence!" there was a distinct admiration in Jack's voice, so Cristran's face took on a blissful look again.

The soldiers who saw the scene almost cackled in the face of this pompous turd, but their rank prevented it.

***

Weytenford Castle. Main Street.

The gates opened and a procession of the finest aristocracy of the Diolas Empire drove gracefully into the castle. Horses dressed in steel armor, gorgeous knights in a variety of armor, stagecoaches and carriages entered the castle, and everyone who walked down the main street was a nobleman. Ahead of almost everyone, a massive warrior in shining armor walked, a vicious lion's helmet on his head, and a belly with a chain mail protruding from under his armor. Behind him, holding his cloak in the air, followed Jack.

On either side of the marching procession stood a crowd of women and children shouting and cheering in admiration. They waved flags and handkerchiefs, chanted and shouted, showering applause on the knights. Sir Cristran walked, sticking his chest out as far forward as possible to look as majestic as possible, and when the applause began, his inarticulate mind thought that they were all directed in his direction, all admiring him alone. Of course he could not have known that behind him walked the handsome knight Arthur, dazzling the pious minds of the girls of this castle with his beauty, no he could not have known, and even if he had known... he wouldn't have believed it.

***

The Aristocracy's temporary lodging at Castle Weytenford.

At the enormous table, with all the other aristocrats, sat Sir Cristran. With two hands, he held the meatloaf and dug into it with his teeth, biting off large chunks that sank into his bottomless throat. After nibbling it down to the bone, he began to nibble on it and suck on it like a virgin kissing his sweetheart for the first time, tongue-in-cheek in general. Behind him, in rank fashion, importantly, with his attire on, stood Jack. He hadn't eaten all day today, and drank only from a muddy puddle in the road. Watching all these rich men devour a ton of food, and even before the battle to come, made him uncomfortable.

After sucking and licking everything he could out of the bone, Сristran elegantly took the bone with two fingers and threw it back over his shoulder. The bone arced across the floor behind him, right in front of Jack. Jack looked down at the bone, a look of reluctance and disgust. He didn't move or pick it up off the floor. But at that moment, Sir Cristran paused eating another meat and turned toward Jack with a mouthful of meat, his gaze unconcealed with menace. A shiver ran down Jack's back, and with a quick nod he dropped to his knees and picked up the bone with both hands. Cristran kept his gaze on him, Jack understood what was being demanded of him. He bowed in reverence and gratitude, then took out a handkerchief, dipped the bone, and stuffed it like a treasure into his sinhole.

***

The wall of Weytenford Castle, 30 minutes before the attack.

- Our reconnaissance was right, the Mercians did come to attack our castle." Said the commander of the 4th Infantry Division of the Diolas Empire, Marcus Bale, as he looked over the enemy army outside the walls. There were about a thousand enemies. There were about 600 defenders.

- How do you think we will defeat them?" the castle steward asked Marcus.

Marcus looked contemptuously at the steward and said imperiously: "Keel, are you not confident in the strength of our Diolas Empire? Not confident in the strength of our soldiers? Our knights? Not confident IN ME!?" at the last word, Marcus towered over the steward like a god over a mortal, Marcus' gray beard almost touched the steward's mouth.

- N-N-No! W-what are you! MAY DIOLAS RISE ABOVE THE HEAVENS!!!!" Suddenly the steward Keel shouted furiously and fervently.

- And the sun shall be scorched to his honor... At ease, Keel, I believe. And to answer your question. Yes, I think with our strength we will defeat them. There's no doubt about it. The only question is, with how many casualties?" after saying that, Marcus glanced at the castle walls, where as carved statues stood the figures of knights preparing to defend the Castle.

<...>

A little further away, away from Commander Marcus, stood the unconquered Sir Cristran. He gave a scornful look to his opponents, who were preparing siege weapons below, fiddling about like ants, only to be slain by Cristran's double-edged sword.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

To his right stood Jack. At the sight of the enemy, he trembled a little, it seemed one whiff of wind and his figure would be blown off the walls. Sneaking a glance at his lord, and then at the enemy's army, and then back at Сristran. In worry, he began to nibble at the burrs on his fingers.

- You're a coward, Jack. Are you afraid of all those stray dogs? They can only bark, not bite. Besides, dogs are dogs." Seeing his squire, helpless and frightened, Cristran resolved to support him.

He walked up to Jack, put his iron-gloved hand on his shoulder. Jack stared at the gauntlet with eyes almost bulging in fear.

- Fear not Jack, no one can match my brilliance! I will destroy all enemies in my path and glorify my home throughout the Empire! And you, just watch Jack and you will see me defeat them!" the little eyes of Cristran shone, staring into the future, his great future.

***

The wall of the Castle of Weitenford. The attack.

At 12 o'clock at night, the enemies finished their siege weapons and ladders and began their climb up the wall.

When they got too close to the wall, the archers began to rain their arrows down on them, every third arrow was a flaming arrow to give the others a view. The arrows barely hit their targets and hardly did any damage. Out of about a hundred arrows, only ten hit the target, only six penetrated armor, and only two did lethal damage. The arrows didn't stop the enemy army, as they moved closer and closer to the walls in single formation. Their shields were flanked as if they were coming in one wave. Arrows were drumming on the shields, sometimes you could hear cries of pain, but it was rare. In general, the whole battle was going to be decided in close combat, as the arrows had no effect.

Soon the opponents managed to place ladders on the walls, though the defenders tried by all means to knock down these ladders or kill the Mersians climbing the ladders, they were not strong enough, so here and there the opponents began to climb the walls, engaging the Diolas Knights in combat. The knights shifted their attention to eliminating those who had climbed the wall, and now there was no one to take down all the ladders that kept appearing.

The first to attack the climbing foes was the noble Sir Cristran. He swung his two-handed sword at the head of his attacking enemy knight, and without wasting a second he brought his gladius upon the crawler. The enemy raised his head and the first thing he saw was a nearly two meter sword flying straight at his head at breakneck speed, primordial horror appeared on his face, but before he could scream his head split in two. The corpse fell down the stairs, knocking down a dozen other opponents on the flight. Cristran, feeling the rush of adrenaline and the taste of blood, got into the heat of battle. He scurried up and down the wall, hacking down every enemy that got in his way.

Meanwhile on the wall, in the middle of all the bloody battle, stood Squire Jack. In his hand was a small blunt sword that could serve more as a toothpick than a murder weapon. He looked around in horror, in every direction someone was killing someone, blood splatter flew everywhere, the castle walls were filled with the bodies of knights. Finding his lord fighting some huge bald man with a huge two-handed axe in his hands, Jack trembled and ran towards him. It looked like Cristran was having a hard time dealing with him. On the run, he analyzed the situation around him and miscalculated his plan of action.

No. Not yet.

His plan wasn't feasible yet, so all he did was try to save his lord. With sword in hand, he pounced on the bald man and began to poke the point of the sword at the man's legs with fierce fury. The latter, seeing the boy's obtrusive presence, brought his hand up and struck the boy's head from above. Jack fell to the ground unconscious. That slight distraction, however, was enough for Сristran to swing and take the bald man by surprise, and no sooner had he reached his axe with the hand he had just struck the boy with to restrain the blow than he caught up with him. Сristran made a nearly 180-degree swing and struck the rim of the axe. The sword went through the axe like butter, and without stopping, sliced the bald man's torso in half. The upper part of his body slowly tumbled down, his legs continued to stand on the ground.

- Ha! Well done, Jack! I'll reward you for that, posthumously!" chuckled Cristran, shouting at the lying kid.

<.....>

It was some time before Jack opened his eyes. He felt as if there was a huge hole in his head that throbbed with pain. Holding his head, he stood up and surveyed the battlefield. There was no one else on the walls. The fighting now continued in the streets of the city. Hundreds of corpses were lying around, some of them moaning and calling for help. Wounded men.

Jack looked around, found his sword lying near the corpse of a knight, and with a crunch of his neck, walked in the direction of the groans. As he approached, he saw a thirty-year-old knight with a smoothly shaved thin mustache and a goofy face. There was a bloody wound in his side, it didn't look like it was fatal, but if no one helped him, he would soon bleed out. Hearing footsteps, the knight wheezed: "H-help!"

Jack looked up into his face and smiled the most innocent smile a child could ever have. "Hey uncle knight!"

The knight, coughing in incomprehension, why would there be a boy on the battlefield? But still managed to say: " Kid, help me.... " No sooner had he finished his sentence than a sword stabbed him in the chest with force. The knight's eyes widened, and blood gurgled from his mouth.

Jack watched the knight die with an expressionless face, when he had enough, he twisted the sword inside the knight's chest and the knight died instantly. Wiping his hands on his shirt he stood up and began to listen, after a while he heard the distant muffled moans again. A smile appeared on his face again and he ran towards his next target.

<....>

After a while, Jack finished off four more unkilled knights. After standing for a while, he heard no more groans. No survivors. Looking around the entire battlefield, he saw no shining armor of Sir Cristran. Realizing that Cristran was alive and now fighting in the inner part of the castle, Jack stared there. His young face soon took on an ugly appearance: a wicked ear-to-ear smile showing straight white teeth, eyes filled with anticipation and excitement, two dimples on his cheeks, and a few creases on his forehead. He was smiling like a maniac who had just killed a hundred victims and demanded a sequel. A moment and Jack's face took on the face of a frightened squire again. Picking up another sword, he ran into the thick of the battle.

And now... it's time!

***

Standing in one of the castle's streets, a breathy, sweaty Sir Cristran stood in his wake. His armor was streaked with marks and dents, and he had a couple of puncture wounds that bled. He was surrounded by three enemy knights in the same condition. There were five others lying on the ground, each corpse with one straight cut.

Bloody hell! If someone doesn't help me now, I'm dead! thought Cristran.

He kept looking around for an attack, but they would not come. They must have been waiting. So they stood there, none side wanted to attack first, they were all too tired to attack. They just stood there staring at each other with sizzling eyes.

Suddenly a running figure appeared from around the corner. It ran toward them. They all looked around to see if it was a friend or foe, but when they looked more closely they lowered their weapons. The figure was a twelve year old boy. He was running scared, followed by several knights, shouting for him to stop. But he didn't stop, he ran exactly in the direction of Cristran.

- Master! Master!"

- Jack?" asked Cristran in bewilderment, he thought the kid had died from a blow from that bald warrior, but it didn't seem to be so.

As Jack ran closer, the three knights hustled and scurried away. Because they saw the castle defenders running after Jack. But Cristran, from his vantage point, couldn't see that, he only saw Jack. Running up to Cristran, Jack took him by the hand and shouted: "Come on! More enemies are going to come running in here now! If we don't run now, we're definitely dead! I know where our allies are, I'll show the way!"

Cristran looked at his squire in puzzlement, but he had no time to think about it, so he quickly shouted, "Lead on!" and ran after Jack.

Jack ran through the streets in a loop, followed by Sir Cristran,that was running clumsily in gaunt boots, barely moving his legs. As time passed, Cristran began to notice that Jack's back was moving farther and farther away from him. As he ran, barely breathing, he shouted: "Jack! Wait! Wait! I can't keep up!" but Jack didn't seem to hear him, continuing to run at his own pace. But then, Cristran noticed that out of the dark streets in which they were running, there was the light of torches ahead of them, with the hope that there were defenders, he accelerated toward that light. What he didn't notice, however, was that Jack's figure was no longer in front of him, or anywhere else for that matter. Cristran was too absorbed in what was happening to pay attention to the boy.

With heavy steps he ran out of the streets between the houses and his eyes, accustomed to the darkness, were for a moment blinded by the light of the torches. When his eyes became accustomed, he removed his hand and looked around. What he saw shocked him. His knees almost buckled. In front of him stood about 40 knights in black armor, the kind only Mersians, his enemies, wore. In front of him stood about 40 enemies and not a single allied defender. All forty pairs of eyes stared at him, like wolves staring at a sheep that had fallen into their clutches. A couple of the knights smirked snidely, more than ten smiled. Slowly they took Cristran in their ring.

Cristran stood there unable to believe what was happening.

How? How could I have fallen right into the clutches of the enemy? I was running to my allies, after all... that's what Jack said... Jack...? Jack?

The realization struck him like an arrow to the heart. With foaming at the mouth and rage in his ratty eyes, he screamed with all the fury he was capable of, "JAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!"

The knights around him took this shout as a battle cry and attacked him at once. Cristran could not resist so many opponents. His body was pierced by many swords and spears, and blood quickly flowed from his fat-like body. The attackers continued their assault and more and more wounds appeared on Cristran's body, he dropped his majestic sword to the ground long ago. With over 80 wounds, he fell to the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading out beneath him. Several of the attackers continued to stab his body with their spears.

- Take that, bitch! Here! That's for Doran!" one of them shouted.

- Die! Diolasian bastard! Die! For Corin!" shouted the second.

Many of them were friends of the attackers Cristran had killed, and now, they were taking their anger out on his body. They kept poking his dead body with their spears until they ran out of strength. Spitting on his body, they slowly dispersed.

Cristran's mutilated body lay in a pool of his own blood, looking more like minced meat than a valiant knight. His eyes were staring upward, one would have thought he was looking up at the sky in his last moments, but they would have been wrong. His eyes were looking at the roof of a nearby building. On that roof, in the darkness of the night, stood a 12-year-old boy, staring at Cristran's body, smiling like a devil at the soul of a sinner.

Jack saw from the roof the entire massacre of Cristran, and each blow inflicted on him was imprinted in his mind like a divine fresco. Each stab was sealed in Jack's mind. A smile never left him. With a chuckle he sat down on the parapet, pulled a bone from behind his groove and began gnawing at it without taking his eyes off the body of Cristran lying there. It was delicious.

It was the third month of Jack's service to Cristran. Three long months... he had served this lord. And now... he was gone.

It was time to find a new master.

The squire thought. Squire Named Jack.