Chapter CHAPTER VIII: HEART OF THE KING (5)

At the end of these words, Hamoen gave the New Colonel his silver sword, the Colonel’s guide. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Death had reached his soul.

Argôn got up, looked around, and the few remaining barbarians announced the withdrawal. The Sons of Salvation had triumphed.

“Sir, we have won!” said one of the nobles.

“With the price of the blood, of my two best friends. Let us carry their bodies, and make their deserved funerals. May their energy rest honestly. May their souls rest in peace. It is the least we could do.”

In the outskirts, the victory was already celebrated, and from within, the small barrier where the humble homes were victorious too. The news had arrived. The whole town danced with happiness.

Argôn then returned to the central area of the battle, with the bad news of his friends. And the whole army bowed their heads, uneasily. It was the fall of their colonel, and one of the main riders. But this was not all, Amalia was also expecting the man.

“Argôn, I have important news to tell you” she said worriedly. “These barbarians´ armors are not common ones.”

“What are you talking about?” said the man.

“These armors are made of tempered steel, which is only produced in these lands by one kingdom, the Kingdom of Glamdoer” said the sorceress. “How is it possible that these barbarians have their weaponry?”

“What are you suggesting?” asked a man.

“This was organized by them, planned by them. They are behind all of this!”

“But ma’am” interrupted a nobleman. “Glamdoer has the Noble Peace Treatment with Anaís. It has been in place since the antiquity of the Surrounding Villages´ union. In these times, we are the only two towns forming the agreement.”

“These treats mean nothing today” said Amalia. “What is that you don´t see? This was an intentional attack. No barbarian knows how to get to these lands, how did they got here? Look at these marks, these weapons can only be forged by many blacksmiths and the barbarians do not know these instruments. This neighboring reign has always envied our rivers, our clearings, our harvests. And this is the definitively proof of it.”

“How can we corroborate this?” asked a miller.

Argôn then saw one of the barbarians crawling almost dead, trying somehow to reach the Elietcel River´s gorge. The new colonel made his way out of the crowd, and headed towards the crawling man. He reached down and shook him on the ground with both hands, enraged.

“Who sent you here?!” asked Argôn.

The barbarian was missing a leg; he laughed vilely, and said nothing. Until Argôn took out a sharp sword that was guarded in his waist and buried in the other man´s leg.

“Speak!” said Argôn enraged.

“Enough, enough! I will speak!” said the barbarian while Argôn removed the sword. “We come from the Province of Thera, in the Merđhen Region. We were expelled from the kingdom, a couple of cycles ago. We decided to cross Eldriner, and we entered for forty days in the Anaís Forest, seeking refuge and food. Until we ran into the hidden kingdom.”

“What was the Kingdom´s name?” asked Argôn.

“Its name was Glamdoer” says the man coughing. “We had been days without eating, and we killed each other out of hunger. This kingdom was stable and habitable, but its strength was weak, and its people mediocre. We were going to invade it and reclaim it our own, but–”

“But what man? Talk now!” shouted the new colonel.

“They–they told us to make a deal” answered the tilting man. “Instead of confronting the war for their land, we were told that there was a village further. A small town, which t was a few leagues from the area. We were told it was covered in gold; that wealth inhabits all around the zone. We were told that it was blessed, with unique fruits, unparalleled landscapes and harvests in quantity. We were told a clear river existed among them, where fishing was abundant and the water was pure. They told us that only a few villagers lived there, and that it would be an easy job.”

“This is unacceptable!” Argôn said.

“But they told us that the word of a legend had spread; a sorceress who might cause us problems” continued the man. “And that they could give us solid armor. That they were exclusive, and that we would not find ones like these in the entire region. They told us that they were resistant to the disgusting magic of the sorceress, and that with them on, we could succeed. But they would give it to us. If we generate a trading union in return, and share with them the the riches of the region, the market of the goods, once we got it. So we agreed, and they gave everything to us. They promised us that this would be our new realm.”

“It will never be” murmured Argônæth.

The barbarian died instantly. Argôn turned around, and the entire Army saw him with enthusiasm, for the emerging energy from the man was of strength and leadership.

“Sons of Salvation!” says Argôn aloud. “We have defended ourselves, and in this battle we have triumphed! But we have not won the war yet! Today, as the New Colonel of this town, I declare the exit of Anaís on the Noble Peace of Communion agreement! Gather your people, tonight I l want all of you in the Central Square of the fire tower! Prepare your weapons, don´t cool your hands. For tomorrow at dawn, we will attack Glamdoer! And we will win! We will get the Ancestral , of which our ancestors mytically talk about in their oldest relics! We will raise the golden flag of victory! We will avenge the death of Ordonel and Hamoen! And we will proclaim ourselves as the owners of this region! Heads up Anaís!

“Heads up, Argônæth!” said the euphoric army.

Time passed and night had fallen over the threshold of the region. The locals were preparing for the meeting, as word had spread that an important event would be announced by the New Colonel. He had made a funeral for his former friends, placing them on a horizontal wooden throne, covered with straw. They set them on fire, so that their ashes spread near the riverbed of the Elietcel River. The event was held privately, along with some members of the Sons of Salvation, and their families.

The event ended, and the people dispersed for later Argônæth would proclaim his announcement. Meanwhile, he headed with Amalia towards some small gardens that were near the tower. They wanted to be alone for a moment.

“Aren´t we going talk about what happened today?” asked the woman.

“Amalia, you know that there is nothing to talk about” responded Argôn.

“How is there going to be nothing to talk about?”

“There is nothing. It is clear.”

“What is clear Argôn?”

“That I love you, Amalia,” said the man. “I’ve loved you since you gave me that look in those bushes. I can’t deny it, and I don’t need to. I don´t have to. I´ve had you since that day, always on my mind. And there isn’t any move, any action, or any battle I haven’t done for you.”

The woman blushed because, for she felt the same about him.

“We talk more with our eyes, than with our words Argôn” said the woman. “I love you too, and I am very proud of you. On what you are becoming. On what you have become. You did it, you really did it.”

“I still can’t say that” responds the man. “We have an important event tomorrow. These people now depend on me, they depend on us.”

“Take it easy, sweetheart” said the woman. “You are made for this. You are a leader by nature, and courage runs through your veins.

“I know you will win, for I know you will give everything on it” said the woman. “Now, I should go visit my parents. They must be very worried. I haven´t seen them since the battle today. I think it would be nice to spend some time with them.”

“Don´t worry, my love” said the man. “Your presence, however short, is always a gift for me.”

“I love you, my boy” said the woman while giving him a goodbye kiss on the cheek. “See you at the Announcement.”

“You won’t take long, will you?” said Argôn.

“I will not!” exclaimed the woman with energy, moving away.