Honor By Knight – Percival: In the Shadow of Leon
Percival's office was just through the barrack doors, crammed with a desk, chairs and a small table. A short rack of swords lined one wall, and a window overlooked the courtyard on another. Shelves brimmed with books on military regulations, formations, swordsmanship, strategies, armor, weapons, and security. The Knight's Code was among them, too. Replica shields of past First Knights adorned the walls, including Leon's and the Pendragons'. Percival doubted his would join them.
Sir Ranulf, seated across the table, handed him a roster, his blue eyes momentarily glazing over as he reached for yet another scroll waiting for his approval. He squinted at the roster, the words blurring together as he rubbed his throbbing temples. He was able to make out the script detailing Ranulf's security selections for the king and queen consort, but couldn't make it through the list of escorts for the visiting dignitaries arriving for Gwen's coronation in a few days. He wiped away the bead of sweat rolling down his brow.
"This will do fine," he said, giving the parchment back to his second, trusting in the quality of his selections. "Thank you, Ranulf."
His responsibilities increased tenfold as first knight, finding little time for meditation and prayer, respite with friends, or writing to his betrothed, Kensa. He could also use a decent night's sleep. He was now an official of the court, a meaningful and worthy position that Sir Leon had held for years with honor and prestige.
Ranulf nodded and continued replacing the parchments in Percival's hand with scroll after scroll. Thankful for his guidance during his transition, the older knight knew the particulars of Leon's role very well—better than him. Being of nobility and a knight of long standing, Percival questioned why they hadn't chosen him instead.
As a commoner, he'd lived a simple life with his parents and six siblings before Cenred's invasion, before joining Lancelot to help Arthur win back his kingdom from Morgana the first time. That life had prepared him for responsibility of a different kind, of taking care of family and land, not this kind of leadership where he had to move mountains to keep everything in order.
Ranulf continued. "We need to rotate the patrol teams, city guards, and work details by the end of the week."
Percival's shoulders tensed; he shifted in his seat. Leon and the king believed in his abilities and at first, he did, too, honored and humbled to be appointed. Now, battalion commanders, squad captains, knights and soldiers looked to him for guidance, for order, for confidence, yet some of the noble leaders didn't afford him the same respect as they had Leon. He chewed his lower lip.
"Yes, I'll have something for you in a few days." He kept his focus on the list of knights and soldiers detailed to repair structures throughout the city, his throat parched and the knot at the base of his skull threatening a headache. Let's leave Gwaine on security—he still isn't completely healed, but reassign Elyan to assist with repairs on the lower town chapel. I think they're falling behind."
A nod from Ranulf and Percival gave the scroll back to him. "Do you have the roster of new recruits? Training starts today with, erm..." He rifled through the stacks of scrolls and parchment until he found what he was searching for. "…with Sir Bertrand."
"And Sir Ulrich. We've had several new recruits over the past few days and I've had to schedule an additional practice team."
"Why? They practice all together. How many do we have now?"
"Fourteen. Five noblemen, nine commoners. The noblemen prefer not to practice with the commoners."
Percival leaned over the table, meeting Ranulf's hesitant gaze steadily. "All knights will train together, regardless of status. No exceptions. You send any man packing who doesn't want to work as a team. On the battlefield, their life may depend on the other and if they can't respect one another now, they have no place in this army. You let them know this comes from the king."
"That is a message that needs to come from you, Lord Commander. At least, on the first day."
Percival reclined back in his chair, rolled his eyes with an added intake of air. Would I ever find peace anymore?
He desired to finish the letter he'd started writing to Kensa several days ago. The beautiful farmgirl with untamed blonde hair and the promise of reuniting with her grew ever distant. With priorities shifting every day, he barely had time to think of her. Only at night, after prayer, when his mind had settled would she fill his thoughts before drifting into slumber. God, he wondered how Leon managed family when each day demanded all attention on duty. He straightened in his chair.
"Right. I'll be there."
"Very good," Ranulf said, standing and retrieving some of the scrolls, leaving others for Percival to review. "I'll inform Bertrand and Ulrich of your change." He headed for the exit, stopping as he opened the door. "Oh, Sir Leon will be here shortly. I gather you'll have the honor of escorting him?"
Percival's chest constricted and his head exploded with an ache, but he managed a nod. "Yes. I'll be there."
He leaned his head on the back of the chair again, his lips twisting into a thin line. His mind raced, his shoulders slumped. He missed Kensa, yearned to be with her. He missed seeing his friends and drinking in a casual atmosphere. He missed his old life—the satisfying physical labors of farming compared to chainmail and scrolls.
Percival swallowed a lump that settled in his stomach, reached for his sword belt and then strapped it around his thick waist when he stood. Collecting a few scrolls, he stashed them through his belts.
It would be nice to see Leon again, he thought as he left his office, shoulders back and chin up. I'll be sure to ask him how the hell he managed to maintained his sanity.