Ideals and Reality
"Sir William, the militia and mercenaries have secured the front gates. The freelance adventurers are providing back up for the militia on the eastern walls. Rations have been distributed to the civilian population, and we should have enough to last at least four days."
Zephyr Greywind, eighteen and a knight with a few battles under his belt, stood before his commanding officer. The heat of the war against Ghast Heim had reached boiling point, and reconnaissance units had reported the denizens of the dark city massing its forces for a push against Geffen. Zephyr and his unit, the 6th Pronteran Knight's Division, had been ordered to bunker down in a town directly between Geffen and Ghast Heim. Their ultimate goal was to delay the demon army long enough for the rest of the Pronteran Chivalry to assemble and arrive to bring the fight to Ghast Heim.
"Very good. Daemon and his unit should be back soon to report on the Ghast Army's movements," the Lord Knight William said, pleased with the speed in which they had fortified the city. "See to it that the militia are well prepared."
"Yes, sir." Zephyr turned around and headed for front gate, his armor clanking loudly.
Arriving, he saw that, despite having been reported as secured, there was still a flurry of activity to provide the place with sturdier supports. Makeshift forges were burning all around, with blacksmiths tempering and sharpening militiamen's blades. Zephyr viewed the hustle and bustle with more than a little satisfaction, but the stress and anxiety that oozed out of each man, all humble shopkeepers, blacksmiths, and bartenders before this ordeal, was tangible.
The young knight walked over and sat beside a particularly frightened-looking young boy, dressed in plain clothes and gripping the handle of his sword so hard his knuckles had turned white. The boy jumped when Zephyr landed with a clank beside him.
"Yo." Zephyr raised his gauntleted hands in a wave.
"H-h-hi," the boy was trembling.
Pulling his helmet off in an attempt to seem less intimidating to the boy, Zephyr asked, "How you feeling?"
The boy gulped. "Like I'm about to die, sir."
"You're obviously not the very metaphorical type, are you?" Zephyr winked at the boy. "Don't call me 'sir.' I'm no captain and you're not a soldier. Call me Zephyr."
"Y-yes, sir."
Zephyr grinned wryly at that comment. "What's your name?"
"Jake, sir."
"Hell, Jake, drop the formalities."
"Yes. W-well, Zephyr. What about you? How come you aren't afraid?"
"I am afraid, you fool. A sane man goes into every battle with the full knowledge he may not be alive at the end of it. I fear at the hint of coming combat. I dread each imminent battle I must face."
"Then how can you fight?"
"Because I fight for something I believe in. I fight for the people of Rune-Midgard. I fight for valor, for honor, for justice. My job is to defend the people. Defend you, Jake. You're not a soldier. We knights are here to make sure people like you stay safe and sound." Zephyr's chest swelled with pride at these words. He took such oaths and ideals to heart.
Jake fell silent at these words. His brows were knitted in concentration.
"On my honor, Jake, I will do everything I can to make sure you, and your family, make it out of this alive."
Jake looked up at these words. "I don't have a family. My mom was got drunk with a wandering knight and had me as a bastard. She died when I was six. I never met my dad."
A long, awkward pause followed this statement.
"Uhm…" The irony of Zephyr's words and Jake's father was not lost upon him. "Well! Do your best and, er, fight on!" Zephyr stood up quickly and left the boy.
Jake was left to stare blankly at the disappearing knight's back. Looking down, the boy saw that Zephyr had left his helmet behind in his haste to leave. Furtively glancing to both sides, Jake picked up the helmet and walked off with it.
"...Damn," was all Zephyr could mutter as soon as he got out of the boy's earshot.
Zephyr turned his head and saw a bloodied hunter hurry across the militia site, heading towards the knight's encampment some distance away from town. He followed after the hunter.
Zephyr arrived just in time to hear the hunter give his report to William.
"Sir William! Ghast Heim! Ghast Heim is on the move! Even now they are closing in on us! Master Daemon and our unit were taken completely by surprise! I was ordered to return at best speed and report to you, sir!" A young hunter gasped out, sweating profusely and bleeding from more than a stray cut.
"WHAT!? How many!?" William boomed, startled by this sudden turn in events.
"Fifty-thousand strong, sir! We'll never hold them off! Raydrics, Wraiths, Evil Druids, Abyss and Bloody Knights! The whole lot!"
"Shit," William spat out. "Very good, report to the priests for your wounds."
The hunter wearily nodded and staggered away, escorted by a knight. William stood contemplating the situation for several moments, until at great length, he turned to a knight beside him.
"Sir Marcus, mount your Peco. You are to head off the main Pronteran Army and inform them of the situation. Tell them we will rendezvous with them at Geffen."
"Yes, milord." A blue haired knight nodded and turned to the makeshift Peco stables.
"Excuse me?" Zephyr spoke up, "Rendezvous at Geffen? What about this place?"
"The situation has changed. We are to quietly withdraw from this outpost."
"What?! What about the militia, the mercenaries, the villagers?" Zephyr roared in outrage.
"Their fate is unfortunate, but I'm afraid some sacrifices must be made." William turned to inform his troops of the change in plans.
Zephyr reached out, grabbed the Lord Knight by the shoulder, and spun him around. "That's it!? 'Unfortunate'?! Have you forgotten our mission? We are to hold this outpost!"
"Wrong. We are to delay the Ghast Heim army and keep this unit in best condition until the main contingent of our army arrives. The militia and mercenaries will be sufficient in slowing the monsters." William calmly corrected Zephyr.
"What justice is this!? Have you forgotten that we are to serve and protect the people?! What the fuck do you mean by abandoning them!?" Zephyr was livid, his eyes blazing in fury.
"Do not charge me justice, Greywind!" William's temper flared. "I value the lives of my men over the lives in some small village! Do not forget who you are speaking to! I am your Captain! Do you mean to tell me you are to go against your oath to serve under the banner of Prontera? Do you!?" William shouted back.
"If it means that I do what is right, then so be it." Zephyr stated calmly, folding his arms over his chest.
"You are to pack up and be ready to move immediately! That is an order. I will not lose my men to a lost cause, and that includes you!"
"I will not forsake this village!"
"Then you will die in vain! You will die like every other filthy maggot out there!"
"Then so be it." Zephyr's eyes had a steely glint behind him. William sighed. His anger seemed to have bled off in a heartbeat.
"You really will not abandon them, Zephyr?"
"Yes. I will stand and fight."
"Your sense of justice is admirable. However, know that your ideals will get you killed someday but-"
"Then so it shall be," Zephyr interrupted.
"Allow me to finish. Your ideals will get you killed someday, but today is not that day, Zephyr Greywind."
"What do you mea-" Zephyr's question was cut off by a blow to his unarmored head from the Lord Knight's gauntlets. Zephyr dropped like a bag of potatoes.
"Foolish boy," William quietly said. "Sir Francis, take care to ensure that Zephyr is carried away by your Peco." William addressed the other knight that was standing by him. The knight nodded and bent down to pick up Zephyr.
William gazed at the doomed village in the distance. "Do not hate me, Zephyr," the Lord Knight whispered quietly, "I am only doing what I can as a captain. A person with ideals as strong as yours is a rarity, but it is as much a blessing as it is a curse. You will surely meet ill fate at the hands of your sense of justice if you do not learn reality soon." The Lord Knight felt old and weary.
With a heavy sigh, William turned his back on the village and moved to evacuate his men. His responsibility.
Author Notes: Uses the same universe as stories written by Critic From Hell. A tale of Zephyr's first days at a knight, where he was still formal, prim, proper, and bounded by ideals (well, I guess he is bound by his ideals at the end of his life anyway). This is before he met Cross Windsor (note he becomes much more informal and prone to profanities after meeting Cross). First time in a long time I wrote about anything beyond contemporary life, so don't eat me alive D:
And yes, it's no where near as humorous as Critic From Hell's entries. I'm not a good humor writer.
A cookie to anyone who can figure out where the story title (not chapter title) came from.
::Edited on Jan 9th::