Flag under the Battlements

I wasn’t cut out to be a soldier and that was that. Plated armor adorned my leather tunic, it felt heavy and immobile. The long spear, almost three quarters my own height and designed to splinter wooden shields effortlessly, felt cumbersome in stead of the normal short spear balanced in my grasp. Elskier frisked nervously beside me, blowing his lips, flicking his tail and trotting on the spot. The grey stallion was as nervous in a large crowd as I.

The square was the biggest in the city. The city was the largest in Fahier. It was full. A dozen bright colored banners flapped listlessly in the gentle wind, baring the symbols of their respective Legions. Alfaler’s nobleman and troops bore an eagle in flight upon a red banner, wisdom and foresight. The house of Lord Berez and his squadron waved a white banner with golden doves trimmed in green. Messengers of the royal house. Hunder’s men bore blue flags and cloaks, imprinted with golden ivy leaves, the advisors. A handful more banners were familiar to me, but I could not identify their houses. The rest I had not seen before.

All twelve noble houses and their armed forces have gathered here. I was among them as an employee of Lord Berez. A rare friend, for whom I had worked with in the infancy of my employment, smiled at the uneasiness that oozed from my posture. A pat on the shoulder gave me some reassurance, but not much. I had come to advise, infiltrate, steal maybe, and certainly explore, but never to go to war. No one offered any word of comfort, should it bring bad luck on the battlefield.

“Jiar!”

I wrenched my body around, but not in time to brace against a brightly colored bundle hurtling itself into my arms. The brown black locks of her hair waved freeing behind her. I could not feel the warmth of her embrace through the thick armor.

“Mariem”

It wasn’t uttered as a question. Her bright clothes, blue skirts, pale yellow bodice, lavender shawl, were comparable only to the banners dotting the field of men. Most of the other women that have come to farewell their sons, husbands, brothers, lovers or friends chose mourning dress in dull grays and morose blacks. Many will never see again those that they have come to farewell.

Nevertheless, the bubble of excitement still buried deeply in my armor was determined to fill our last moments together in speculation of the bright future. I was going to find the treasures long lost in an old city ruin, but not before slaying a hundred enemies. I was going to come back glorified in her fathers name and my victories, held in the highest regard by the king himself! But to me, none of that mattered, and contented myself in burying my face into her hair that smelt of floral bath oils. She was still babbling into my shoulder. Mariem, anything for you.

The horn blew, resounding in deep, reverberating bellows, once, then twice. I peeled her away from my, reluctantly, then turned to mount. People all around me followed suit. It was time to go. With a great cheer uncharacteristic of the fallen faces all around us, the trumpets were raises. The banners were hoisted; they now flew in the wind. The ranks fell into line. Two by two, the front line infantry began to filter out of the square, down the straight road running from square to city wall, and out the heavily fortified gates. Then the cavalry followed. Time to go. With another glance back, I saw Mariem had retreated with the crowd, parting to allow the ranks to pass. The rows in front of me began to shift. She threw me a grin. Looking forwards, I edged Elskier on. A disembodied voice floats through my mind, my English tutor’s, breathing famous words into my ear.

“Come, let us ride”