Keanu

Andreas and General Einhard were both on horseback, dressed in elegant military coats that were decorated with insignia. Behind them were three whole units of soldiers trudging their feet through the snow behind them, pulling their coats tighter against their bodies as a wave of body-numbing winter chills swept through the area. They had been traveling for a long period of time through the mountains, searching for the village of Keanu, home to a native tribe under the kingdom’s protection.

Andreas tied the top section of his hair, feeling that they were getting close. He wished to arrive as soon as possible: the tribe had sent a dispatch urging the King to help his people. The dispatch was never able to say what for. He was shot with a poisonous dart by an unknown assailant and died. Andreas had been on military campaigns long enough to understand the severity of the situation. Most likely, that assailant was a member of a large and organized army of barbarians.

General Einhard held out a solid fist to his side and everyone stopped. Andreas placed his hand steadily on his sword’s handguard, scanning the area for any signs of movement. Snowflakes gently fluttered with the wind gusts and landed on the mountain tops. He looked to General Einhard, who tilted towards the passageway ahead of them. His eyes widened in surprise. He, with only a year’s experience, was being given the privilege of leading and maintaining his own units?

The General smiled, tilting his head once more at the passageway. Andreas kicked at his horse with his heel.

“Units two and three, move out!” he shouted over his shoulder.

The two units summoned followed suit. Andreas lead them through the passageway and into another section of the mountains. There, they found the village…and the barbarians invading it. A very large, strong man stepped out to meet them.

“This is quite a surprise,” he said, smirking in amusement, “I was expecting the King’s army, but to have them led by a young prince…”

“Tareans,” Andreas muttered under his breath.

“And the younger of the two at that…”

“What do you want with the people of this village?” Andreas asked.

The Tarean leader crossed his arms.

“Simple. We’re using this village as an outpost.”

“You’ve resulted to extorsion, then.”

“Who said anything about extorsion? You have no proof. You can’t make that argument against us.”

Andreas, unnerved and irritated, unsheathed his sword and pointed it daringly at mere inches of the Tarean leader’s face.

“You are quick to forget that Keanu is under our jurisdiction and protection. Therefore, we need proof of nothing: we have the authority to demand that your forces vacate this village,” Andreas declared.

The leader’s amused face faded.

“Are you threatening me, boy?” he snarled, Tareans approaching at his sides.

Andreas was intimidated by this man and the other Tareans, but more than anything, he wished for that to not show. If he was going to defend his kingdom when his brother took the throne, especially against the detestable people below them like his father expected him to, he had to start by being strong then. Adrenaline rushed through his veins at the thought of his enemies fearing him.

“Our current war isn’t with your forces. But if you disobey the order of the member of the royal family you are pushing your luck. I will only ask you once more: Leave. This. Village. Or else I promise you my father’s army will bring war to your doorstep, and we both know that right now, you can’t afford that.”

The Tarean leader gritted his teeth.

“Very well. We will do so,” he grumbled.

“My units and I will stay here until it is done,” Andreas said, sheathing his sword.

The Keanus watched in amazement as the barbarians packed their things and left without a trace. Andreas dismounted and walked through the center of the village and up a steep incline to the chief’s tent. Inside, a wrinkled, elderly man bid him to enter.

“Thank you for coming to my people’s aid,” he said, hugging Andreas.

Andreas, although surprised at the gesture, returned it wholeheartedly. He proceeded out of the tent and mounted once more, the Keanus chanting songs of praise. Andreas, swollen with pride and overcome with relief, waved at them, and commanded his soldiers to follow him back to the passage.

Expecting to meet General Einhard, Andreas urged his stallion to speed up. He suddenly pulled on the reins.

Andreas stopped breathing as he took in the scene of devastation: the entire first unit wiped out and slaughtered left and right, a motionless white stallion, and, at a foot’s distance, it’s rider sprawled across the ground, his blood tinting the blankets of snow. Andreas slowly slid off his stallion, slowly walked to Einhard’s corpse, and collapsed on his knees.

The soldier’s behind him were startled by the scene, whispering and murmuring. Andreas eventually made it back on his feet, anger and hatred taking over him. He rushed to mount his horse.

“Move out!” he shouted with more vigor than ever.

He was going to find the Tareans and make them pay for their treachery.