A Song Dedicated to the Big, Beautiful Green Mass (5)

“Your Majesty,” Arwen said as she approached me, her body coated in blood and the stench of grimy sweat emanating from her. Her disheveled appearance was a far cry from her accustomed regal bearing. Despite this, she shone with elated joy.

“Thank you for ensuring our survival, for you had fought like an enraged dragon,” she continued as she thumped her fist onto her breast, honoring me with such a martial salute. The royal infantry had also taken up their formation, presenting themselves before me. The awe in which they regarded me was plain for all to see.“We honor the Prince and his draconic mastery of war!” they gaily shouted as one man. The blood upon their blades, the dents in their armor, and their shattered shields stood as a testament of the battle they had waged in my name.My body still ached, and my mind still reeled, yet I also shared their joy at our victory. “You have done well Arwen,” I said to her, then turning to the soldiers ranked before me. “So have you, men, you have shown your mettle and valor upon the field of battle on this day.”Arwen and her soldiers stomped the earth and once more brought their fists thumping into their breasts. I singled Hans Dek out from their lines. “Tend to the injured, I have other duties to return to,” I ordered the man.“Your Majesty, it shall be done,” he affirmed my command. While addressing the troops, Vincent had made his way toward me. In his hands, he held the tattered banner that the Orcs had sported. “Why do you carry this?” I asked him. He did not deign to answer me; different emotions were warring upon his face as he stretched out the silence. I could clearly see that he was plunged into a deep confusion as to how to regard me. Then, he offered the banner me. I wondered at his intentions, not yet accepting his offering.“It is the tradition of the Third Legion that the soldier who had fought most valiantly claim the banner of the enemy. It is the most valued loot of battle, and a testament of our honorable victory. It is yours,” he finally said. I made to turn away from his proffered gift, yet he swiftly reached forward and placed the banner within my grasp. It was at that moment that I took in the warm regard with which Vincent and his Rangers and knights considered me. Their awe matched that of Arwen and the royal infantry.The entire scene excited me as my heart once more started to beat within my chest. Although I held some discomfort at all the attention that was being heaped upon me, I felt more welcomed by these warriors than ever before. Vincent nodded at me as he saw the understanding bloom upon my countenance.“Victory is ours,” I mumbled.

“Your Majesty, speak it louder, so that they can hear the words,” said Vincent.

“Victory is ours!” I shouted as Vincent grasped my hand and thrust it into the air with his. The Rangers, knights, and infantrymen raised their swords to the sky as one and took up my call:“Victory is ours!” their voices rang out into the cold air.

Upon hearing their affirmation of my own cheer, my heart grew warm. This was an uncomfortable yet amazing feeling, one that that I had never felt before.historical

“Victory is ours!” I shouted once more, affirming the feeling that had crept into my breast.

“Hurrah for the First Prince! Winter Castle salutes and welcomes His Majesty!”

At that moment, the realization struck me: When I had been a sword, my deepest desire had been to claim my own glory, to be lauded for victories won by my own hands. How would such glory feel if it was mine and mine alone, not that of my wielder? I have imagined and longed for such things through all those ages, and here I know stood: My desire fulfilled. It was an indescribable feeling, the awe in which I was held.“Victory is ours!” the words once more rang from my lips. Sometime in the future, I might look back at this moment, even feeling embarrassed at the way I had carried on. I would probably be embarrassed. But right then, all that mattered was the present. I only wished to savor our victory and drink up the cheers of men who celebrated my glory. I even went as far as to proclaim myself the master of the righteous military might of our kingdom.“Sixteen,” came the single word from Vincent, cutting into my reverie.

“What are you on about?” I asked him.

“You have slain sixteen Orcs, Prince Adrian,” he said, trying hard to keep his face impassive. “I have also slain sixteen of the beasts today,” he finally added, failing to hide his smug expression and tone of voice.

“This remains mine!” I shouted, lifting the banner for all to see as he averted his gaze. The feeling of victory remained untarnished within me.* * *It would be an understatement to call the Third Legion’s work ethic effective. They removed their bolts from Orcish flesh in record time, also gathering the arms and armor of their fallen comrades. The corpses of man and Orc alike were thrown upon a great pile and turned into a blazing pyre. The legion was economical even in their mourning, for they did not tarry long before the ashes that had once been their comrades in arms blew away on the mountain breeze.“We head back for the castle,” Vincent commanded. About thirty or so Rangers yet lived to follow his order. “Let’s go as well,” I instructed Arwen, who commanded the infantry to march after Vincent.I glanced one last time at the field of battle. Swirling wisps of smoke rose from the pure white snow, seemingly connecting it to the blue sky above. I considered this scene vacantly for a moment, and then turned away.

It was indeed time to return to Winter Castle.

* * *During our descent of the mountain, other Rangers joined our ranks. These had been the men sent to eradicate the small village of monsters. I could see that Vincent had received some form of troubling news from them, for his mood had darkened upon their joining us. I did not ask what troubled him so.“The Rangers had failed to detect the movement of that Orc combat unit,” he finally said as he shared his worries with me. Either there had been a breach in the Ranger’s usual perimeter, or the Orcs had devised some method to avoid detection. Neither possibility was comforting, and Vincent was deeply concerned.“We have to hurry back,” he said as he quickened the pace of our march.Upon our return to Winter Castle, my Uncle met us at the gates. The soldiers upon the walls cheered our return, and upon hearing this renewed martial spirit, I raised the banner to the sky.“I am the holder of this banner!” I shouted, in the vein of my earlier celebrations.Arwen shook her head at my words, and Vincent merely looked bored. I could see that those who had fought by my side were also not impressed. It seemed that I had milked my pride for all it had been worth, but hey, I haven’t had many chances in my long existence to feel that way about myself.The soldiers upon the walls were more surprised by my display as they saw the flag I held, for they had expected a knight of the Third Legion to hold such a trophy. Nevertheless, they cheered at me with enthusiasm. The pride that had slowly flowed out of me on our journey back now once more thudded within my breast.“Okay, let’s get to the business at hand. Has there been any suspicious movements by the Orcs on the mountain?” my Uncle Balahard asked.“An entire combat unit had been ghosting their scouting force, a combat unit that should by all rights have been further up,” Vincent gave his report. “Something unexpected must have occurred in the mountain range,” the Count decided.Hearing the serious nature of their discourse, I slowly lowered the banner that I had lofted into the air.

“I will not be discourteous and keep you men from your rest after battle, though I have some serious matters to discuss with you, son. Follow me.”

Vincent walked after the Count, then suddenly turned back to me.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, looking embarrassed as he immediately walked on once more.

“Don’t you think he’s a little weird?” Arwen asked as she watched his retreating back. He seemed fine to me, even if he was a bit boastful of his pride in a childish manner. “Well, for a tough man like him to suddenly change the way he acts towards you must be embarrassing,” she added with a smile.

“Adrian!” Adelia called to me as she came from the keep. I quickened my pace to meet her. “I’m glad that you’ve come back safely,” she told me as we finally faced one another, noticing her warm and welcoming regard. It was only then that I fully realized that the battle was over. I gave a hearty laugh upon noticing her hospitable manner.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked as I showed her the banner I had won.* * *A whopping third of the Rangers that had battled with us had been slain. Vincent had said that, against such an elite force of Orcs, these casualties were acceptable. Even to my ancient ears, his words had sounded harsh. I shared my opinion with Arwen, asking why the men of Balahard had not mourned their dead to a greater extent.

“To gain victory is enough to honor our fallen. We Balahards comfort the souls of the fallen by spilling the blood of Orcs,” Vincent answered me as he stepped into the room. Upon hearing his words, my mind once more returned to the memory of the avenger that had once wielded me. Vincent’s philosophy had echoed that of his namesake, and I could not see this as a coincidence. I looked at Vincent, thoughts of reincarnation swirling through my mind.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked as he noticed my expression. I did not answer him, and in due order, he informed me as to the particulars of Winter Castle’s latest strategic meeting.“Why are you telling me all these things?” I finally blurted out.“His Excellency the Count had ordered me to keep you up to date,” came his reply.I nodded. My Uncle, and therefore my mother, the Queen, wished for me to get along with Vincent. This would not be a difficult thing for me to do, as he did not possess a stuck-up personality.“I will leave you to your rest,” he said after some time. Arwen had woken Adelia up, and both of them also left my chambers. I was on my own, then, sitting in a chair as I immersed myself within my thoughts.

The lingering echoes of [Poetry of Revenge] were still in my mind. I had become immersed in its power, especially after a new verse had been added. It did not yet feel like my own song, for another had composed it. I knew that I had to craft such poems into extensions of my being, rather than considering them as mere songs to be sung. This had been done to some extent when [Poetry of Revenge] had become [Poetry of True Soul]

‘Tap.’I was stirred from my musings by an unexpected sound.‘Tap tap tap.’Darkness had settled onto the world outside my window, yet within it, I saw a stark white bird with an elongated beak that sat upon my window sill. It was clear to me that this was no ordinary bird, for what bird cackled with the laughter of a tongue torn from the mouth of a human?