Chapter 3: A Brief Good-bye

"Is there anything else, sir?" the young squire asked Ragnar.

"No, you can go," the soldier replied. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a couple of gold coins. "Make sure you keep the armory well polished," he said as he gave the coins to the young squire. "I don't know how long I'll be gone but if the stables are cleaned out by the time I return, I'll give you double of what you just got."

The young squire's eyes lit up. "Y…yes, sir!" he said, giving Ragnar a formal salute. The soldier saluted back and the boy ran off, probably eager to get to work on the stables.

Ragnar smiled as the young squire ran off. It filled his heart with a bit of hope that perhaps the boys of a younger generation might want to become soldiers because of the heroic deeds of Burland's past. Such deeds that his father had done and many others before him was what inspired a younger Ragnar to become a royal soldier himself. If young boys were going to rely on soldiers like Sandor for inspiration, though, the state of the royal soldiers of Burland was going to be very sorry indeed.

A frown replaced Ragnar's smile as he turned around to put the rest of his supplies into his travel pack. Every day, he regretted allowing Sandor to become a royal soldier a little more. Granted, it was the King who made the final decision but usually based on a captain's recommendation. King Burnard's role in it was merely ceremonial. Ragnar had no one to blame but himself.

How could he have known Sandor would have turned out the way he did, though? During his trials, the young soldier had displayed every trait that was becoming of one Ragnar would have been looking for. His true colors only seemed to come through when he was officially accepted within their ranks. It was a poor decision on Ragnar's part but one he was going to have to live with.

Still, for as much as Ragnar did not like the rebellious soldier, he did agree with him on one thing: their current mission.

He really did not know what his King could be thinking but a mission to find lost children seemed paltry compared to a far more important concern regarding the beetle-men of the mountains. If the monsters were becoming aggressive, wouldn't it be a better idea to prepare the castle for a possible invasion? A royal soldier's first and only duty was to the castle and its citizens, not fishing communities far north. However, the King's command was the King's command, whether Ragnar agreed with it or not.

A timid knock came from his door. "Yes, come on in," Ragnar said, not looking up.

"Aren't you even going to look at me?" came a woman's voice from the door.

Ragnar looked up and saw a woman dressed in a long, plain brown dress and had auburn hair flowing down to her shoulders. She was just a few years younger than him and Ragnar jumped up when he saw her.

"Mary!" Ragnar rushed over to hug her but she resisted him. "Is there something wrong?"

"You were going to leave without even saying good-bye, weren't you," Mary said to him, giving him a glare.

"That's not true!" Ragnar exclaimed, taken aback by the statement. "I was going to see you after I finished packing."

"I'm sure," she muttered, sitting on the bed. Ragnar could tell something was disturbing her but he wasn't the brightest when it came to a woman's feelings. He decided it would be best to continue packing.

A minute later, Mary suddenly bolted up, went to Ragnar, and nearly shouted, "How can you be so insensitive!"

"What? What?" Ragnar fumbled. He did not know what to say. He had already explained to her why he hadn't seen her yet but what was he to do about it?

"The children!" Mary said. "King Burnard gave you your orders a day ago and you're still here while mothers are crying!"

Ragnar almost let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized she meant the disappearing children. "The other soldiers are taking care of it," he explained. "I... felt it would be better if I concentrate more on the reason for the beetle-men's return to the valley. It is a more serious threat than-"

"Have you no compassion!" Mary cried. "There are people disappearing all over this country. And all you care about is a few mythical monsters from the mountains that-"

"Wait a minute!" Ragnar interrupted. "What do you mean 'people' are disappearing? I thought it was just children."

"Oh, Ragnar," Mary said, falling into his arms. "I was talking to Flora and her husband, Alex, has disappeared, too." She started to sob. "Ragnar, I look into the sky and it's making me nervous. Something is definitely wrong, and if anything happens to you out there, I... I..."

Ragnar gently kissed her on the forehead and said, "Don't worry. I'll be all right. I'd worry more about the other soldiers. They haven't had much training outside of the castle." Mary smiled at Ragnar as he gently stroked her auburn hair.

"Don't you worry," he whispered.

Mary owned her own farm just on the outskirts of the castle town of Burland.

When her parents passed away, she inherited the land and, instead of selling it like most single daughters would, Mary decided to keep and maintain it in honor of her parents. It had not been very successful but made enough money to keep her land away from tax collectors.

One year at a castle fair, the fledgling farmer fell in love with a new royal soldier by the name of Ragnar displaying his swordsmanship in a mock duel. Her mother had taught the best way to a man's heart was his stomach and Ragnar was no exception, his burly frame demanding a voracious appetite. She invited him over for dinner one night and the two had been a couple ever since.

That was eight years ago and Mary was still patiently waiting for Ragnar to propose to her. He claimed he couldn't because, as a royal soldier, he had already dedicated his life to the King of Burland. Mary often wondered why she stuck with him if he wouldn't marry her. In the end, the conclusion was always the same: she loved him and he loved her just as much. If they couldn't have the Master's blessing now, they would once Ragnar's service was over, whenever that time came.

The couple had lunch together as Ragnar described his plans in Izmit. He didn't really have any, hoping the other soldiers would take care of the situation before he arrived. As a kind gesture for Mary, he promised her should he hear anything of her friend's husband, he would look into it as well.

Once lunch was over, Mary walked with Ragnar to the outskirts of her farm.

"Are you sure you don't want a horse?" she asked. "You'll reach Izmit much faster if you do. I honestly don't mind lending you one."

The soldier shook his head. "Horses and I understand each other very well. They don't like me and I don't like them."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Hmph. You're a disgrace. Who ever heard of a royal soldier who didn't ride a horse?"

"Knights ride horses, m'lady," Ragnar replied with a playful nudge. "Not soldiers."

Their faces suddenly grew solemn and they embraced each other for a long time.

"Farewell, Sir Ragnar," Mary eventually said. "Have a safe journey."

"I wouldn't want to have any other kind," Ragnar smiled.

"Go on," Mary said, teasingly pushing him away. "Why are you still here? Go and catch up with the others. Your country needs you."

Ragnar kissed her forehead and set out over the country, waving good-bye.