Anneau
The rain fell down continuously, but the sound of the pitter patter against the roof of the tent was scantly soothing. It was too cold to fall asleep easily and the group of trainees was running low on supplies. Asbel adjusted the way he laid on the cold, hard ground in a futile attempt to get more comfortable; the only thing separating him from the soggy dirt was a thin blanket.
He sighed quietly, well aware that the difficulties were simply another test of endurance on top of all the troubles. Though Captain Malik and the other knights in charge would not admit to it, many of the problems they faced had been planned by their superiors. They did their best to create realistic conditions to properly prepare the trainees for knighthood.
The wind blew against the sides of the tent, allowing cold air inside no matter how securely it was fastened. Though he acknowledged the importance of both the direct and indirect lessons, he did not want to be a knight out on the field. It was not that he wished to avoid the adverse weather; truly, he just wanted to serve his role and protect the people he cared about in the most direct way possible. Every knight had an important role, he believed that axiom to be true, but he still had a goal set in his mind.
He would be a part of the royal guard, where he could always protect the prince and future king of Windor.
Asbel rolled over onto his side but instantly felt something in his pocket poking against him painfully. He reached to pull the object out, absentmindedly remembering why he had slipped it off his finger in the first place. He stared at the golden ring for a moment, smiling at it without particular awareness of his expression. It would sometimes slip off of his hand when he was stuck in cold, wet climate for a notable period of time. He had hidden it away for safe keeping earlier that day, though the morning felt as though it happened much longer ago than less than a day.
He slipped the ring back onto his finger and tried to listen to the calming element in the sound of the falling rain. With every mission, he grew closer to his true goal. The gold and emerald ring was another symbol of the future he would craft for himself.
He'd do it with his own hands – as his own choice, with his own will.
Major Victoria bowed respectfully to the prince, though he was turned away from her. He faced the rain streaked window, blond head tilted slightly upward to the gray sky. He was a quiet young man; she had never once heard him laugh since coming into the service of the royal family.
Truthfully, she did not believe that he would be fit to serve as Windor's next king. He revered peace to the point that he lacked interesting in most military matters. For someone such as herself who was raised to claim strength with the sword, his disposition was not an endearing one. Nevertheless, he was a prince and she was a soldier, and so she kept her head bowed. It was more tolerable to hold the pose when she knew that blessed change to the fate of the country was not far away.
"Thank you for your report, Major Victoria," he said, polite but disinterested.
"You are welcome, Your Highness," she said with the utmost solid, faux sincerity.
"Do you still keep track of the trainees at the knight academy?" the prince questioned, the phantom of curiosity lurking in his voice.
"I know some of them by name, but if you are interested in anyone in particular, I can fetch their information for you," she volunteered.
"Do you know of a lord's son named Asbel Lhant?"
The question hung in the air for a moment before she answered. "Yes, he is training under Captain Malik Caesar right now. They are deployed on a training mission in the borderlands."
"It's probably raining there too," the prince remarked, oblivious to the way she frowned at his pointless comments.
"Would you like me to retrieve any more detailed information on him?" she offered formally.
"No, that's alright. You've told me all that I need to know," he began as he finally turned around to face her.
She relaxed her expression of scorn and let it echo the calmness of her voice. For a moment, she thought that she perceived an odd crimson hue on one of the prince's eyes. She dismissed it as naught but a trick of the light when they returned to color of faded, fake, and invaluable gold.
"However, I want to be informed when he is ready to become an official knight," Richard said, voice resolute. "Please take note of this and ensure that I am the first to know."
"Of course, Your Highness," she agreed, albeit with suspicion in her mind. "May I ask if there is a reason why? He should only have a few months of missions left."
"I intend to offer him a place on the royal guard," Richard replied simply.
She had to remind herself not to frown or scowl. They didn't need someone on the guard who was possibly more loyal to the prince than to what the country needed; it had already taken her months to populate the royal guard with individuals who wanted a better change in leadership. It was difficult when the followers of King Ferdinand blindly followed Prince Richard merely on account of his bloodline. There were times when the value on the old beliefs of monarchy would not lead to the best future for the country.
"Your Highness, I mean no disrespect, but we in the military are usually delegated to finding candidates for the royal guard. It allows us to find more experienced knights with adept skills to provide your family with the best protection possible," she explained, letting every lie fall from her lips with ease.
"We appreciate your dedication, but I would still like for this order to be honored," he said as he turned back to the window.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," she agreed blankly.
When she thought about it more, it would not be too difficult to convince Malik that the young trainee from Lhant needed more time before he was ready for knighthood. Whatever connection the boy shared with the prince, she still had control of the situation. She reminded herself of her favorable position as she straightened from the bow. Time was of the essence, but she could still manipulate the time of one simple knight with ease. One more young man with a title he did not deserve did not matter when the prince's days were numbered.
She would see to it herself; Asbel Lhant would not join the royal guard in time to make any difference. She would play her part to guide the crown to where it belonged; away from that unfit head gazing at the crying sky. She would do it with her own hands, with her own will.
The title is French for ring. I need to learn another language for my future jobs…so, baby steps. XD
It was interesting to write about Richard from the point of view from someone who doesn't like him. XD I enjoyed it more than I expected since he's my favorite character. :'D
Anyway, I sort of had an agenda with the last scene. I found the whole rebellion in the beginning of Graces to be quite interesting, although there were a lot of avenues and storylines that weren't explored in great depth. It really seemed like the kind of situation where many of those who were leading the rebellion truly believed that they were doing something good for the country.
Claudius – I mean, Cedric, was an ass, but his followers were still strikingly loyal. They must've had reasons for following him so devotedly.