Go For Stories

The night filled with the sounds of celebration. The villagers had been taught their lesson and perhaps now the Order would learn their place. Morgalin sat by a cook fire enjoying a tankard of ale and a hunk of roast wildbird with his unit. The men laughed at bawdy jokes and swapped stories of the raid. One man currently regaled them all with a tale of how he had searched an entire building before he realised he had done the very same building minutes earlier.

“Odd thing was,” the soldier said, standing tall so as to be seen by everyone, “I didn’t even notice the couple I’d done for on the way in the first time!” He fell about laughing at his own stupidity, his audience joining in.

Morgalin tore a chunk of the bird off with his teeth and chewed. He wasn’t sure that he had done the right thing today, killing his fellow soldiers. He had done it for Rokyl, a higher ranked officer, but there was still doubt. Heck, when they set out from camp that morning, he had his own plans for any woman he may find alone, willing or otherwise. Perhaps he should have kept walking. Rokyl would never have known he was there.

Even so, it had felt good driving his sword through that bastard and hearing his dying breath. Truth be told, it almost felt better killing the soldier than any of the defending villagers. He never had taken well to having his abilities questioned. Since he was a child, he had been quick. None of the other boys could touch him whenever it came to childhood brawls. This was the reason he had joined the army in the first place. He figured, if he was going to be great at fighting, he may as well make a career of it.

He finished the meat and downed the rest of his drink before standing and leaving the cook fire. The stories had become repetitive and the fire too hot. He wandered through their camp, enjoying the sounds of victory. This had been his first real raid and he had to admit he was nervous to begin. Once the fighting had started, however, his nerves settled and he revelled in the chaos, trusting in his skills to keep him safe.

“Ho, Morgalin,” a voice called from a nearby tent. Morgalin looked around to see Rokyl waving him in. Morgalin crossed to the tent and let himself in.

Rokyl now sat on his bunk, awaiting his guest. He indicated for Morgalin to take the bunk opposite. Morgalin sat, waiting for Rokyl to speak.

“I wanted to thank you for your assistance today,” he said. “I know it mustn’t have been easy for you to raise arms against a comrade.”

Morgalin nodded. He didn’t think Rokyl would appreciate hearing how much he enjoyed the experience, even though it were done it out of a sense of honour.

“It was nothing, sir. They should not have disobeyed you.”

“That is true, but you could have walked on and I thank you.” Rokyl clasped his hands together in front of himself. “The fact is, if anybody had seen what happened we would both be in serious danger. I think it best that you keep a low profile for a while. Just in case.”

“I will,” agreed Morgalin. “What do you suppose would happen if we were spotted?”

Rokyl let out a slow breath. “I don’t rightly know. By the rules, we did nothing wrong. That soldier disobeyed my order and was justifiably punished. However, going around killing allies is not generally seen in the best light. We could get a public flogging or something more severe. It all depends on how the Earl feels on the day.” He smiled a thin smile. “I wouldn’t worry, if I were you. We would have heard about it by now if we were in trouble.”

Morgalin thought Rokyl’s optimism to be ill-placed. He was born into a world where the Earl ruled these parts and he knew him as well as anyone. If he wanted to punish somebody, he would wait to see how they acted after the matter. This way he would know whether or not they truly deserved whatever torture he dished out. Rokyl was right, they had not done anything morally wrong, but that wasn’t the way men like the Earl operated. Morals were seen more as a guideline for others to obey when one was in power.

“We shall see, I suppose,” Morgalin said. “Did you still need me?”

“No, you may go.”

Morgalin headed to the front of the tent.

“Morgalin,” said Rokyl, as he opened the flap. Morgalin turned. “You did well today. I’m proud.”

“You only met me this morning. How can you be proud?”

“Because you acted against your greater instinct in order to do what was right. That is an honourable trait in any man.”

Morgalin nodded and left the tent. Despite Rokyl’s naivety, Morgalin found him to be a good man. The fact that he would tell Morgalin of his pride made him feel better about his actions. “Perhaps,” Morgalin thought, “I’m not such a bad person after all.”