A small camp of tents sat in the trees. The sun was warming the cold shadows and tents.

Warriors walked around the small campgrounds, over fires that slowly died.

Abner stepped out of his tent, the biggest in the campground.

Strong. Formidable. Intimidating. As much of a warrior as anyone could have been.

What horrors face me today.

He walked towards his second in command, Beniah.

An intense, young, and scary knight and leader in the making.

All that was needed was a nod. Everyone knew what today was.

The two walked in silence, as Abner acknowledged his troops.

"Are they selected?"

"Waiting for you, Abner."

"Should I do it?" Abner asked.

Beniah turned, surprised. "No."

"Should I make you do it?"

"No."

The two briefly smiled.

"I will happily kill the king's chosen, Abner."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"You mean false king."

"Forgive me."

"It is fine. We all know what is coming."

Abner and Beniah then came before a group of warriors, lined up.

50 or so. Weapons drawn. Some old. Some young. Some strong. Some weak.

Abner was not impressed.

"This is the best you could do?"

"Feel free to go fight yourself."

"I might have to," Abner warned. "There are men missing. Good men. Soldiers I was going to choose."

Beniah swallowed and stood up straight.

"Amelik left early this morning with a group."

Abner turned red. Sweat poured from his brow. His fists clinched.

"If he's not dead already, I want that mask hanging from that tree. Do you hear me?!"

Beniah nodded and ran off.

Abner turned towards the group, waiting patiently for their death.

"I won't bore you. Nor comfort you. Today, your death or victory saves our army and our house. Our 12 verse their 12. At the sacred pool of Gibeon. Swordfall. Our bloodshed prevents all bloodshed. Am I making myself clear?!"

They all agree and roar.

"So. The worst moment of your life will be also be your highest honor. How cruel are we?"