Gerjonn Chandrennin stood at the window looking out at the city of Elstreth in the predawn light. More and more recently he enjoyed taking this time to see his home before the bustle of the day took over, basking in its silent and peaceful beauty, before the responsibility of the day took away any chance to do so. A faint knock on the door brought him out of his reverie, and he turned to see Venedict, the ducal seneschal, quietly step inside.
"An early start to this week, I see," Gerjonn stated. Venedict finding him first thing in the morning was hardly an unusual occurrence, especially of late. He had served Gerjonn's father for several decades and was ever on top of the matters at hand in Elstreth.
"Yes my, ah, Your Grace," Venedict answered in a quiet, subdued tone, "You are needed immediately in your father's chambers."
Gerjonn was silent for a moment, and then nodded his head. "I shall need a moment, but then head directly there."
"Of course. Shall I wait outside?"
"Thank you Venedict, but that is not necessary," Gerjonn answered, his eyes catching Venedict before the seneschal could turn to leave. "Please see that the others are roused and assembled in the Hall in an hour."
"Yes, Your Grace," Venedict answered with a deep bow, and then left the eldest Chandrennin. Outside, the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon, but Gerjonn did not notice.
The Lieutenant removed his helmet as he entered the command tent to find Duncarr Chandrennin leaning over a table with a recent dispatch laying before him, "Captain you wanted to see me? I heard a rider came in, did we receive new orders?"
"Gather the men on the training field," Duncarr ordered, his face stoic and his eyes never glancing down, "Gauntlet training today. Veterans first, fish last. And no one had better dog it."
"Sir, the fish certainly need it," the Lieutenant began, "but the veterans? You know how they feel about training."
"No one gets out of this, not even officers. Veteran or fish there are lessons everyone needs to learn or remember. Get them assembled, I will be along to conduct the exercise myself."
"Yourself? Not the centurions..." the Lieutenant began, but cut off at the look and cocked head of his commanding officer.
"Get it done. I will be there shortly."
With the dull clang of a gauntlet against his armor the Lieutenant swiftly spun on his heels and marched out of the tent. Duncarr remained where he stood for several minutes leaning on the table once more. Outside he could hear the shouts of his officers and the centurions as they roused and organized the soldiers of the legion. Duncarr looked at the table one more time and then shook his head. He picked up his sword belt from the nearby rack and carefully strapped it into place, along with the two sheathed blades hanging from it. Lastly, he took up the large shield that hung on the rack and marched out of the tent and towards the practice field. There were lessons to be taught and learned by everyone, including himself.
"My lord? Lord Salnim? Did you need anything further?"
The voice reached his ears as if coming from down a long tunnel from far away, and after several moments Salnim Malwind looked up to see the courier standing there still waiting for his response.
"No. No that will be all," Salnim replied, "You clearly rode hard to get here, so please get some rest. If anything more is needed, you will be informed."
The courier gave a respectful bow, the crimson and gold sash only shifting slightly overtop his white and black uniform as he straightened and then left the room.
Salnim walked over to the window and looked out to see Kasendra out in one of the keep's gardens, sitting on a bench and reading a book she had acquired from the Library Aies. She looked peaceful and happy out there, and he found himself not able to move. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, and then turned and left their quarters.
Silence reigned over the practice field as Duncarr slowly got back to his feet, a heavy coating of mud now marring his armor. The entire legion stood along the edges of the gauntlet circle, each waiting for their captain to speak. Three quarters of the soldiers, including all of the officers and veterans, were to his left and each bore dents or mud upon their armor. To his right the other quarter stood with nervous energy, clean uniforms, and the young faces of the new recruits. Another young soldier stood several feet from Duncarr, looking as if he wished to be anywhere else than where he was right now.
"Well done, soldier," Duncarr said, his voice loud enough to carry across the field. "You did well. You saw an opening when my foot gave way in the mud and exploited."
"Thank you, sir," the soldier answered, fighting back a stammer in his voice, "but it wasn't a fair fight. You only slipped because you were tired from having gone through so many of us, even if it was just us fish at the end."
"Fair? Battle is not fair. Life is not fair," Duncarr replied, raising his head so his voice could be heard by the entire legion. "Today was a lesson to make clear that no one is invincible. Be it by skill, or by numbers, or just by time itself, something will catch you in the end."
As Duncarr spoke he slowly turned in place so he could look at all of his soldiers, "That is why we train and fight together. If you slip, we can pull you back up. If you fall, we can carry you. And if you should slip from this mortal coil, you will never truly be gone, never forgotten. For each of you is part of the legion, and that part will live on in everything we do."
Duncarr looked down at the churned mud under his boots, drew in a breath, and then raised his eyes to look back at his soldiers. "Lesson for today is over. Armor is to be scoured clean and burnished bright before dark. Tomorrow, we march for Elstreth."
Once the field was clear, Duncarr began to walk back to his tent. His own armor needed tending to. After that, there were things that needed to be made sure were never forgotten.
Sunlight poured through the windows into the empty quarters of Kasendra and Salnim Malwind. Upon the window sill sat the missive the courier brought. The top and bottom of the page were folded in towards the middle, concealing any written words from view, save for the broken ram's head wax seal affixed to it.
In the garden below the window, Salnim walked out slowly and quietly so as to not disturb his wife as she read. When Kasendra looked up at him, her face bore the smile of a pleasant surprise. But as Salnim knelt down in front of her and began to speak, the joy quickly fled to be replaced with sadness and tears. Her book lay forgotten on the bench beside her as Kasendra collapsed into Salnim's arms and wept.
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