The Compliance of Knights

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. I'm sure they wish they hadn't come here, but regret is always futile. I've lived my life evading regret as much as possible, but now, in the heat of this battle, it is hitting me harder than my sword against my enemy's chainmail.

All these lives dedicated to one man's will, one man who grows old and dies only to pass them on to a spoiled son. Our loyalty to him, we call honor and the dragons call foolishness. Why only now, drenched in the wake of a slashed artery, have I come to see their point?

We enslaved dragons to prove our superior prowess, employed them as beasts of war, and now use them against fellow kingdoms in the hopes of seizing power of this wretched land.

I stared up into the looming dark clouds overhead as a dragon and its rider wriggled into view, the dragon screeching in agony as arrows flickered with fire in its underbelly. Rain plinked into my visor, pecking at my eyes. I brought my gaze back down to the blood-soaked, charred, and muddy dirt clutching the armor around my feet.

The land we crave to possess is being made a wasteland by our efforts to conquer its owners ever since we tamed and took control of these beasts.

Another warrior charged at me with his broadsword raised high. I threw my worn-out body into his before he could swing, thrashing us both into the mud. He took hold of me by the shoulders and rolled on top of me. I reached up and flung my gauntlet through his chin, sending him spitting teeth and off of me. I climbed my way up from the mud back onto my feet. I glanced at my attacker and made certain he would not assault me again.

My attention moved to the ensuing carnage around me. Axes split skulls, spears penetrated sternums, and swords brought soldier's marriages to sharp ends.

I have witnessed combat before. I am no stranger to violence. But this, this is needless and unsettling. We aren't defending our heritage, our homes, or even our honor. We are merely bickering over boundaries because two men in power are greedy. All this life lost is thrown down a nugatory hole of human vice.

Is this the legacy men leave behind? Burning fields, molten puddles of blood, and sobbing families? If I no longer wish to participate in this, how can I effect change?

The voice of my squire pulled me back to sanity. My focus fixated on his position as he yelled at me for help.

"Thaddeus!" He shouted, skipping my title of 'Sir' for brevity.

I rushed to his position and swung my sword through the arms holding his. I kicked the assailant off of him and heaved him up from the spot he had fallen. "Rise, squire! You mustn't bog yourself down. This assault is yet to be won."

He brushed his back off and plucked his sword from a wet area of the mud. "Thank you, sir. There really are many of them, as you said."

"That there are. Come, let us finish this bloodshed." I then led our attack into a pit of clanging weapons.

We succeeded and brought the battle to a brutal end after much toil. A collection of battle-worn knights formed on a hill as our newly-appointed king made an appearance on the battlefield. He arrived in a pompous carriage, decked in flashy colors and inappropriate grandeur.

I muttered to myself under my helmet, sweat and blood still caking to my skin, "The child's only sixteen."

My squire, Svenson, glanced up to me, "I'm only seventeen, sir."

I dismissed his comment with a nod, "Indeed, but you have no responsibility or weight to your name yet. This boy has an exponential amount of both on his shoulders and I doubt a man of his age can honorably wield it without breaking beneath it."

King Gannon Newshire set foot onto the muddy ground as he exited his carriage. He cringed lightly, regained composure, and marched toward us. "Sirs," He greeted.

The entire group saluted and hailed him.

"King Newshire. Welcome," Our general answered.

He kicked his chin up in the general's direction as a response and swayed around us, examining the bloody mess of the battlefield as flies descended upon the carcasses of the fallen. He surprised us with a grin and turned to face us, "Did you cause all this?"

"This is the aftermath of a won battle," I retorted without hesitation. "Majority of the men you see on that field are your faithful warriors, slain by the enemy."

The young king held his grin, "Well done, sirs. My father commissioned you wisely." He swung back toward the view.

The level of callous disrespect lashed my heart. My right hand found its way to the hilt of my sword and unsheathed it. "How worthless are my men's lives to you?"

The king's eyes widened as the knights around me gasped at my insolence, but he kept his poise without moving a muscle. He took a moment to think before answering me. "I appreciate their sacrifice, Sir Thaddeus. Now return your blade to its sheath. I feel threatened."

I gritted my jaw and took a step toward him, "I don't believe you."

My squire jumped between me and the king, his sword in hand, "Sir, stop! Please!"

I halted and met his scared gaze. They were the eyes of a naive, trusting child. He lacked experience and I could easily have brushed him aside, but I chose not to.

I held no fear of the other knights with their weapons drawn, ready to combat me.

I returned my attention to the king, "You, King Gannon, are a wicked, evil child who knows nothing of your father's legacy. You are a blight on your family history and an illness to this kingdom. Your immaturity and greed launched this bloody crusade. Your father fought to defend this land and secure peace between our neighbors; you have us fight to expand territory at the expense of our neighboring kingdoms and the peace your father fought to establish. The hundreds of lives lost today have been lost needlessly because of you." I jabbed my finger at him to bring emphasis to my accusation.

The king's grin split into a chuckle, "It is not your place to judge me, knight. I am king and, as king, I can do as I like with the lives of this continent. Whether I choose to embark on a crusade of conquest or a campaign of peace is not yours to decide or condemn. You are gravely overstepping your place and need to promptly kneel and apologize or I will have the knights that value their loyalty and honor to me and this kingdom add you to the bonfire of those slain on the battlefield today."

"You speak very brazenly for having no ability to defend yourself from a mere accusation or inspire loyalty in your own men. You think we just blindly follow you because you are king? We have our own agency, child. A king is meant to be more than a dictator. A king is meant to be a custodian of his people and a beacon of inspiration to his men. You think you can aimlessly wield us wherever you wish like the dragons we subjugate? I must inform you: you are gravely mistaken. Men are much more noble than inanimate weapons or controllable beasts."

"Let us test your assertion, then," the king whisked his hand toward me disdainfully. "Defend me," he ordered the knights around him.

I straightened as tension accelerated between us. My reputation was the only thing holding them back.

"Squire!" King Gannon snapped, "Your knight is betraying his oath to protect me! I order you to slay him!"

Svenson looked back at the king and then at me, uncertainty swelling in his face.

I hardened my expression, "Svenson, we are noblemen, not mindless soldiers. Our oath is to do what is truly honorable and righteous, not just uphold the whims of a vice-driven king. Don't submit like the dragons have been made to. Stand with me and oppose this evil on our throne as a man."

King Gannon flashed a grimace, "Squire!! I said now!"

Svenson lurched into motion toward me in a spontaneous burst of action.

I knocked his blade aside and planted my gauntlet squarely onto the side of his ribcage. The sound of cracking followed as he crumpled to the ground in agony.

I turned to find my fellow knights leaping for me. My despair and disappointment mounted as I hurled my blade against my companions'. I did not expect the boyish king to be correct about the nature of mankind in this medieval age. I slashed down two of my friends before the skill and mass of my opposition caught me unguarded. I tanked multiple hits and slashes to my armor, stumbling to the mud.

King Gannon raised a dainty hand, stopping further violence from his knights.

I panted and raised my head, glaring at him from my kneeling position underneath my helmet.

The king canted his head oddly, "You're wrong about men, sir. They who are not of royal birth are merely weapons to be directed wherever royalty wishes. The only thing that separates your lot from the dragons is your inability to breathe fire." He laughed, amused with himself and the outcome of this exchange.

"I reject you as my king and spit at your legacy. Even as I die today, know that there are more men like me in this kingdom who will rise to put a stop to your wicked rule. We are not animals to be driven to slaughter like pigs or employed in battle like dragons. Our calling is that of a higher, noble purpose and men like you will always be challenged by those who devote themselves to that purpose as I have." I slowed my breathing, absorbing the pain of my wounds beneath my armor.

King Gannon listened with genuine interest and as soon as he was sure I had finished speaking, waved his hand toward me, "Execute him."

Darkness crowded the edges of my vision as King Gannon turned away to leave me to face the compliance of his knights. He stepped further down through the battlefield, inspecting the many bodies strewn about the mud, relishing the gore.

Follow this link to listen to a song as you read the rest of the story.

I twisted my foot into the slippery wetness of the ground and slashed upward, deflecting four of the six blades coming for me. I spun out of reach from the remaining two and quickly regained my footing, ready to defend myself.

My clouded eyes fixated on Svenson's as he watched from his crumpled position. This time his eyes were not uncertain or fearful. Instead, his eyes glowed with a sense of epiphany. They showed his realization of what I was fighting for and the calling I adhered to. How had I failed to show him the true path of knighthood that only now did he realize what it meant to be a knight?

I swallowed, ready to face death knowing I would be leaving a successor to my campaign of peace and he would finish what I started.

A smile washed over my blood-streaked face as I watched the knights, through the slits in my helmet, rush me again, knowing that even though I would lose this battle, righteousness would reign in this kingdom shortly after my passing.

But for now, I would take as many of these dishonorable knights with me as God would allow.