(5)

“It’s been too long since we shared a march together you and I,” Hadwin said breaking from his embrace.

“Then the gods are merciful,” Saurus replied.

“Perhaps, but I must admit I always knew you’d lead someday.”

Hadwin gripped Saurus on each arm as if to get a good look at him. A servant moved behind them, placing a large bowl of onion soup at the center of the table, it was to be the main dish. Hadwin’s nostrils inflated hungrily and his eyes ventured unbidden over Saurus’ shoulder.

“You could have been a Lord Commander yourself,” Saurus said re-capturing Hadwin’s gaze, “If you could ever pull yourself away from the alehouse that is.”

Hadwin paused to look at Saurus with contempt, the servant in the pavilion paused to watch the two men stare at each other, Hadwin’s stare seemed sharp enough to cut stone before:

“Ahahahahhhh!” he roared. “You might be right there my Lord.”

The tent flap opened as Alaric entered, his face slightly contorted at the sight of Hadwin, as if the man carried a foul odour. Saurus was pleased his son had at least the courtesy to conceal his contempt from Hadwin.

“Forgive my Lord – Captain.” Alaric said, still adorned in his lightly armoured outfit of blue and gold, his son had not changed garb like he usually did when feasting with the other captains, and under one arm he held a set of books, another subtle change.

Alaric had always treated his father’s feasts with content, collecting war stories from the several captains and exchanging knowledge, not tonight, however. Hadwin mutually acknowledged Alaric’s arrival with lesser courtesy, tilting his head and muttering ‘High Magus’ before he began surveying the course being laid out at the table.

“Onion soup or I’m a Magus myself,” he said, lifting the lid on the bowl to verify his claim. Alaric shuffled past his father and took a chair, Saurus followed. When the three of them sat, Saurus began to hear a gentle patter of rain thud against the tarp roof, a moment later a brief flash of light illuminated the interior in white light. Saurus counted ten seconds before he heard the low rumble of thunder.

Alaric paid no mind; his face had already become buried in one of his many tomes and his attention was seemingly imprisoned by its content. Hadwin sat at the far end of the table, rubbing his large hands together as if they needed warming up.

“A fine feast my Lord,” Hadwin said looking down at the display. Hadwin always had an appetite for food, beer, and good company, so much that Saurus almost envied the man. But in such pleasures, a man surrendered other opportunities like becoming a Lord Commander.

An assortment of fruits and nuts had been laid out, accompanied by a thick broth of onion soup garnished with leeks. A loaf of bread rested on a plate, still soft in the middle and crusty on the outside and all was well seasoned with mint grass and other herbs.

“Would you be taking wine tonight Captain?” asked Alaric with unusual interest. Saurus threw his son a warning look but Alaric did not see it or chose not to. Hadwin was notorious for his drink amongst the camp, often out drinking his men due to many years of practice. Hadwin took his time clearing his throat.

“No, I’ve never had much love for that academic swill,” he said casting off a sly grin to Saurus. “Ale mixed with a little honey tastes as sweet as maidens kiss, I always found.”

Saurus reached over for the flagon of ale and poured for his captain. Hadwin bowed his head in gratitude before raising the cup to his nose, he seemed pleased with the ale and so he should be. The cask was ale from the distant Yuanland, brewed with the heavily sought-after Sunlight Sugar. Often, a small cask fetched as much as a barrel of fine wine in the capital. Saurus poured for himself a cup of watered wine and offered some to his son.

“I’ll gladly have some of that Academic swill father,” Alaric said. Saurus was in half a mind to flatten the rivalry here and now. But gave his son one last look (this one he caught) and resumed. When each man had their drink, Saurus held up his goblet.

“Unity, Strength, Empire.” He announced, bringing the wine to his lips, Alaric echoed the words.

“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” Announced Hadwin, raising his own toast before sipping the ale.

Saurus and his son shared a look when the words were spoken but began feasting immediately. Hadwin tore at the leg of a freshly caught hare, its stringy meat still clinging desperately to the bone. Saurus and Alaric helped themselves to some of the onion soup, Alaric snatching a ripe green apple.

Saurus preferred not to be waited on while he feasted, so the Lord Commanders' servants made their presence scarce when all the food was arranged. Alaric bit into his apple with a crunch while a gust of wind assaulted the tarp roof. The rain was still light but sounded as if it was being carried on the back of a fierce wind. Saurus hoped with all his heart their march tomorrow would not be hindered by the natural force.

“You still say the old words?” Alaric asked.

“That I do High Magus, as loyal to the tradition as always. My wolf brothers and sisters are still loyal too and share the first Emperor’s words back when the Empire was nothing more than the unity of few, the ember before the fire if you like.” Hadwin laughed a throaty roar as he pulled at the meat fiercely.

Alaric watched the captain with smugness, he was well educated on his history, and his eyes ventured to the bear pelt that rested on his head.

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“If I am not mistaken Captain, I thought the Emperor’s firstborn were required to wear the pelts of wolves. Wolves they slew single-handedly?” Alaric narrowed his brow. “It would appear you’ve slain the wrong animal Captain, and no one has had the graciousness to inform you.”

Alaric gave a modest laugh over the rising growl from Hadwin.

“Well, you see High Magus, that’s where your wrong,” Hadwin snarled. He kicked out a leg from beneath the table and peeled back a fold of bearskin. Underneath lay a light grey pelt, almost white.

“I do wear a pelt from a wolf I killed myself, so you’re mistaken. The beast that sits atop my head wanted my wolf pelt shortly after I killed her. But when I introduced the bear to my axe, it grew awfully generous, even agrees to warm my bed of a night now.”

Alaric looked taken aback slightly and blundered.

“Tell me, captain, is it just the two pelts that warm your bed as of la—”

“Enough!” Saurus erupted. His voice blew through the air like needles and his son quieted. Even Hadwin grew silent, but Saurus was not sure whether it was down to him or the sudden exposure of his actions.

“You are in the company of your captain and forget your courtesy,” Saurus said returning to normal frequency. “If you fail to uphold your duty then you will be dismissed, an arrangement can be made for your swift return to Leeside. Do you understand?”

Alaric looked down at his soup, still steaming in a light mist. The words were harsh but had to be, his son was a High Magus and certain standards were expected of him. It was true standards were to be met on both sides of the table, but Saurus would deal with Hadwin in private.

“Yes, father,” Alaric said meekly.

“Good. Forgive my son Hadwin, it’s been a long march and he forgets himself.”

“There’s nothing to forgive my Lord,” Hadwin replied, still holding a heavy burden of concern on his face. The next few seconds were filled with the clatter of silverware on metal, the quiet slurping of soup, and the chewing of meat.

“My Lord,” Hadwin began but was suddenly silenced when the Lord Commander raised a hand.

“We can forsake the titles tonight if it pleases you, Captain,” Saurus said with a great objection from his son, who looked up so fast he looked likely to snap his neck.

“Of course, my—I mean, it does,” Hadwin answered and Saurus saw him smile, a smile as warm as the soup he spooned into his mouth; the soup was thick and heavy, enough to heat a man’s chest for hours.

“You were saying?”

“Oh, I was going to offer you some hare, but then I remembered,” Hadwin said looking over at Alaric with seriousness. “Your father pledged to me—oh it must have been over ten years now, that he’d never consume the flesh of a living animal again.” Hadwin chuckled but fell silent as his statement gave no response from either Saurus or his son.

“And nor have I” Saurus replied flatly, wiping the corners of his lips with a cloth. Hadwin looked complexed.

“Really? Even to this day?”

Hadwin pondered the realization after Saurus gave no reply. Then began to tentatively cut at the roasted hare on his plate, its skin dripping generously with applesauce.

Saurus had not lied about his claim, and although most did not notice when the Lord Commander issued away any offering of meat to him—at feasts like this or gatherings, his son had always taken an interest in the manner, and felt he got no real answer as to why his father stopped eating meat.

“Tell me, Hadwin,” Alaric said with politeness. “When exactly did my father abstain from eating meat?”

Hadwin shuffled, his eyes looking out into the open air as if searching for the answer.

“Why it was right after the battle of Greenfield. After your father took the head from that goblin king. Swaarg or something. Or maybe it was Chwaarg. It makes no matter, the creatures dead now.”

Alaric looked at his father with keen interest and Saurus knew there was little hope in obstructing Hadwin when the tale starts. Especially tales that landed their names in songs to amuse the drunk and foolish. Saurus opened his mouth to speak but:

“We were marching this very way,” Hadwin began, “To destroy a small troop of goblins that fancied themselves numerous enough to harass Imperial lands.”

Saurus surrendered, leaning back in his chair, and sipped at his watered wine remembering the march as if it were yesterday, back when he was just a soldier when he had his youth but not his wisdom. He pitied the boy back then and considered himself lucky to be alive all things considered.

“When we came upon them, however, it was not near the hundred we were led to believe, but at least two hundred! All scattered about the place they were in that field, some still fighting over the loot they had stolen from a village nearby. Totemfall I think it was called.” Hadwin turned to face Saurus and raised a finger as fat as a sausage.

“I still want the scout’s eyes that counted that day,” Hadwin said. “What use is a pair of eyes if you can’t count one hundred from two.”

“Goblins are small,” Alaric added. “Perhaps they mistook two stood really close together as one.” The three men shared a laugh then Hadwin continued:

“So, there we were, faced against two hundred goblin screamers and only seventy-five fighting strong ourselves. Suddenly we heard a horn blow, high and shrill it was like the wail of a ghost.”

Another flash of light erupted throughout the pavilion.

“Our Commander ordered us to form our ranks and we pushed. Great thing about goblins is they’re not very organized. And with the right soldiers and tactics, one man can be worth ten of them in open field. Different story in their caves and rocky mountains, however.”

Saurus had never told his son stories relating to his battles, least of all this one.

“To combat their numbers, we formed ourselves into a solid square formation, our commander taking the center. Another thing about goblins you might want to know High Magus is they have longer arms than a man, in proportion to their bodies that is. And all that time climbing around in caves and mountain ranges builds up strength deep within their lean muscle. I’ve never known a creature to throw a spear as half as well as a goblin.”

Hadwin took a deep swallow of ale, admiring its taste with his eyes as he placed the cup down.

“I fear the host of goblins equipped with actual throwing spears and not the toothpicks they used that day. Nevertheless, our Commander that was the only soldier who sat atop a horse, seemed a most worthy target for the goblin host. I doubt they knew he was our Commander, probably just considered him to be the easiest target above our wall of shields on his high horse.”

“What was the Commander’s name?” Alaric asked.

“Lord Brentford,” Saurus answered sharply as if it was his own name. “Long may he rest.”

“Long may he rest,” echoed Hadwin taking another swallow of ale. “He fell that day and some of the men began to waver” Hadwin gave a sigh.

“It only takes one man to break a shield wall,” he said. “And the whole formation crumbles as if made of wet parchment. At first, I thought your father had fallen after I turned to see he was no longer at my side, perhaps taken amongst the wave of screaming goblins. It wasn’t until I heard his voice, I realized he had taken up a war cry, as fierce and loud as any war horn. He was sat upon the Lord Commander’s steed and believe it or not, Charged!”

Alaric looked at this father in disbelief. Saurus held a face of stone.

“I was young and foolish, with boldness in my heart.” He muttered.

“The God’s favour the bold,” chimed Hadwin, “And they favoured your father that day. Off he sped into the enemy through the nearest gap in our defensive line, riding down every goblin in his path with spear and shield. It wasn’t till I saw your father cut through a few lone goblins I noticed where he was heading.”

Alaric leaned forward.

“Your father raced to meet Shaarge, or whatever its name was, in single combat.”