Everyone immediately stood to attention as the royal family walked in. King Albert I was dressed rather modestly for a man of his position. All black with a black overcoat that had gold trim along the epaulets and sleeves. He had a strong and experienced face with a black eyepatch over his right eye. A harsh, long healed scar protruded out from the eye patch fading seamlessly with the wrinkles along his eye. His grey beard was perfectly trimmed highlighting his strong jawline. He was not a towering man (a little over average height), but a deceptively fit man despite his old age. He also had a gold, multi-jeweled necklace with the royal cross around his neck.

  He took off his coat and handed it to a servant. He adjusted his collar and gold crown and introduced himself with a dignified, commanding voice with a surprising warmth, “Good to see you again, Tom! How was the carriage ride? I believe all was well coming in?”

  “All was well of course, good to see you again,” replied Tom as he hugged the king who hugged in return.

  This surprised Desmond. The king saluted Renault and then shook his hand into a quick hug.

  The king said happily, “General! It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “How’s the auto-mail leg? Still hurts from time to time I guess?”

  “Stiff, but manageable is all, sire,” Renault replied tapping his left leg as a metallic sound emitted into the room.

  Desmond noticed this and was amazed and had a profound respect for Renault. He also finally realized what that soft, metallic thud noise was when he walking about the palace.

  Renault continued, “Doctors and clerics can only do so much for nerve damage. So, old rust leg will do.”

  “I understand… Enough with formalities. Please! Sit down,” the king said.

  He walked over to Desmond and held out his hand. Desmond hesitantly shook his hand with a slight bow quietly responding, “Sire.”

  Desmond immediately felt as if he just got pierced with a spear to his gut. He tried his best to hold back his feelings of shame and guilt, but Tom quickly came over sensing Desmond’s awkwardness and interjected, “My lord. This is the recently knighted and promoted officer Sir Desmond Rollo of Smallwood. I believe you are aware of his situation and new status as a hero?”

  “Yes… Sir Desmond Rollo… Heavy burden to have this new rank and title bestowed upon you, isn’t it? Being called a ‘hero’ is a lot, I’d imagine?”

  “Ye – Yes sire,” said Desmond nervously.

  He couldn’t help but feel as if everything the king said or did was all with a purpose and a hint of wanting or seeing something from him. He briefly remembered what Renault said before the royal family walked in. His gut shriveled in fear and anxiety ridden panic. However, he did everything he could to suppress it.

  The king’s good eye was a steely stare of light green piercing into Desmond’s soul like a scalpel. Desmond felt as if the king wanted something besides knowing his son’s demise. There was a hint of something planned there that Desmond could not pin point. He understood that being the king meant everything said has weight and merit. Desmond sensed this, but was not sure.

  Desmond asked himself, “What does he want from me? Can I keep it together long enough? Shit, I’m scared.”

  The queen and princess also introduced themselves to everyone both of which gave Desmond meaningful hugs that he was not expecting. They calmed him down a bit and briefly reminded him of his mother and the last serious relationship he experienced before army life. The king motioned for everyone to sit down. Renault took one last sip from his flask and Tom politely took his hat off.

  Queen Victoria sat next to the king facing Desmond on the opposite couch. She wore a form fitting black dress with a golden, mink fur shawl draped over her. Although she was older and had some greying on the sides of her head, she was still a natural beauty with little to no wrinkles in her eyes or face. Her raven-dark hair was done up into a textured bun highlighted with her soft blue eyes upon her slim face. Her thin, gold crown sat perfectly on her head that accentuating her sharp features. Desmond was taken aback by her presence. She oozed a silent yet commanding presence with warmth mixed in.

  On the far end of a third couch facing Desmond on his right sat Princess Elizabeth with her handmaiden holding a newborn baby. Elizabeth wore a strapless, long-sleeve, black dress with a thin veil draped over her face hanging from her thin, silver crown. She had long, silky, brown hair that rested gently behind her shoulders. Her almond-shaped, blue eyes appeared broken despite her smile and warm demeanor. Desmond noticed she had a slight wet spot on her face under her left eye. He also noticed the faint redness under her eyes and cheeks as well. He was taken aback by her natural beauty as well.

  She was skinnier than what Desmond initially thought of her at first; but she, like the queen, had a silent yet strong presence to her. However, the feeling of sadness loomed in her and Desmond understood it. He also felt as if she had more empathy and relatability to give. He couldn’t help but try to wrap around the fact that she was barely older than him and yet she was the prince’s wife and currently sits in a position of high authority over many military officers. He lastly felt pity knowing the pain she was holding back.

  The king sighed and asked Desmond calmly with a sudden focus that startled Desmond at first, “Let me speak plainly, Sir Rollo… You have been in more than one battle, correct? Those four stripes on your sleeve say a lot.”

  “Yes, sire. I have been in multiple battles over the years… Three officially. The rest… Skirmishes, sire.”

  “How old are thee? You appear very young for a newly appointed officer and knight. Many don’t become one until they are nearly thirty and weathered by hardships or they clearly bought their way into status.”

  “Twenty two… Just turned twenty two about two and half weeks ago.”

  “Hmm,” the king replied as he leaned forward from the couch. It seemed as if he was focusing everything on Desmond and ignored everyone and everything around him.

  He asked, “How good of a warrior art thou? Renault inquires that you were one of the best swordsmen amongst your unit. Rivaling most experienced knights and light swordsmen; most auspicious, I’d say.”

  “Hmm… Th – Thanks! Thank you, I mean… Sire. It’s not of much meaning.”

  “I beg to differ… Especially with your recent placing at the annual knightly tournaments a while back. Third place out of four hundred participants whilst being the lone, non-noble fighter to crack the top ten in wooden sword on foot, correct? All at the young age of twenty as a private… So I ask once more, how good of warrior are you?”

  Desmond froze. He didn’t know how to respond. He only joined that tournament as a means to earn money quickly in order to reluctantly help Johnathan pay off gambling debts he owed to the local loan sharks. Johnathan had a penchant for dice games and was caught using loaded dice. Desmond was amazed at how well he placed as well in comparison to most of the noble knights involved. He remembered losing to a very powerful, what he thought was an off-duty royal knight with bright, green eyes and a gaiter over his mouth. That green-eyed man eventually became the tournament champion. It was the first time in Desmond’s military career someone outside of the footmen and family that gave respect and praise for Desmond’s skill.

  Desmond still placed high enough to earn just enough to cover Johnathan’s debts much to Desmond’s chagrin. Johnathan gracious paid Desmond back with all the favors in the world. All Desmond kept for himself was a bronze medal he tucked away in his bedroom at his parents’ house.

  Desmond briefly remembered how the green-eyed man chuckled underneath his gaiter as he picked Desmond back onto his feet. Desmond noticed the jet, black short hair on him and how strong his grip was. The man noted happily, “You would’ve had me if your false, tempo step wasn’t hesitant. My left side was wide open on that arching swing. Eight bloody minutes and you still had it in you, eh? Most pass out after five. Who trained you?”

  “Thanks… My father did.”

  “Fascinating. A skilled warrior I bet.”

  “Um, sir? What is your name?”

  “Mine matters not. Your name matters. Desmond, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm? Those scars and the one on your face… That explains it! Well, young lad, wish me luck. I have a hulking monster to defeat in the finals. You’ll be the champion someday, I’d say.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Thank you.”

  “No, no. Thank you for giving me a challenge. Been a while since I had one especially amongst the royal guards.”

  “Good luck, sir.”

  “And to you, brave footman. And to you. I expect you to win the next tournament, eh? I’ll be waiting.”

  Desmond looked slightly at Tom and Renault off to the side silently for help as he got out of his memories. Renault shrugged and Tom nodded for Desmond to say anything. Desmond gulped and then eked out, “Respected enough… Nothing special, sire. Just hard work and relentless training. That’s what helped me place higher than anticipated at last games, sire. I was lucky… If that makes sense?”

  “Hmm; humble… I like that in a knight… Twenty two, eh? You rose through the ranks rather quickly… Tell me… Why was your sergeant’s promotion terminated?”

  Desmond gulped and flinched slightly. He then closed his eyes and recomposed himself. A wave of embarrassment and shame washed over him. He remembered his unit sitting just outside a fortified city as it was burning to the ground. The cries of the civilians was heard as the rest of the army stormed in. Wynward was a separatist city-state that wanted to break away from the empire. They were swiftly put down under orders from Royal High Command. Desmond was up for promotion if he followed through with his orders to put down all dissenting civilians along the outskirts. He did not.

  Desmond remembered a woman holding her dead child begging to be spared as she crawled backwards from him and Johnathan. Both of them were confused and were taken aback by her. Both tried to reassure her that they would not harm her to no avail. A group of force recon soldiers in black stepped past both of them and proceeded to kill the woman indiscriminately. Desmond was frozen in shock as he saw this. The recon soldiers moved onward clearing out more houses on the outskirts of the city walls just near the wheat fields. Desmond and his footmen squad stayed behind refusing to partake in the murdering.

  There was a large recon soldier looking away from a burning barn appearing ashamed and disgusted with himself. Desmond heard the screams of people inside the barn along with a few recon soldiers laughing as a squad of them stood just outside the burning barn. Desmond remembered how bloodied the large soldier’s hands were. The large recon man looked at his superior officer and rushed him trying to kill him. He was quickly taken down by other recon soldiers and was kicked relentlessly and left in the dirt for a while until he got up on his own accord. He walked away in shame. Desmond felt disgust and pity for the large recon soldier.

  He also remembered walking away through a wheat field as to not look or hear the city and barn being destroyed. Johnathan sat on a rock with five other footmen noticing Desmond walking away. None of them stopped him. An irate officer was yelling at Desmond for disobeying orders. Everyone else ignored the officer. The officer grabbed Desmond by the shoulder and Desmond proceeded to punch the officer in the face multiple times with an anger so great that even Desmond did know he had in him. None of the other footmen stopped Desmond. Johnathan and a few other footmen gave Desmond an approving nod. Two recon knights had to quickly restrain Desmond, though it took a lot of effort.

  He lastly remembered going back home on temporary, forced-administrative leave after the incident. He vividly recalled seeing the disappointment in his father’s eyes as he threw a newspaper at Desmond showing the destruction by the army at Wynward. A painful argument ensued resulting in Desmond storming out of his parents’ home into the rain. That was the last time he was home and the last time he saw his father alive.

  Desmond stammered out, “I believed… I wasn’t ready for it, at the time. Based off the… Circumstances of then… Sometimes, doing the morally right thing is to… Stand up for what’s right even if your own superiors and allies make the orders that say otherwise… Sire.”

  “I understand,” the king said empathetically.

  Desmond was struggling to look the king directly in the eyes along with the rest of the royal family. He felt as if his comments to the king were too honest and that it revealed too much about himself. He felt as if he just told the king he would disobey orders if need be and that it was stupid of him to say that to the king. He did not want to remember or discuss the Wynward incident. Desmond’s hand gripped his knees tightly.

  The queen leaned forward and gently rested her hand on Desmond’s and said softly in a voice of lavender and honey, “It’s okay. Take your time, sweety.”

  Desmond awkwardly thanked her and did his best to recompose himself. He then said, “Sire? About the prince…”

  “I know… We know,” the king said with tenderness. “I read the report that was given to me of the battle. Also, Eluthar here told us what he saw as well… We thank you for being with him during his final moments… We also thank you for inquiring that he thought of us to the end… You spoke with Vul’Goth. What did he say of our son?”

  “He… He said.” Desmond was struggling to talk.

  The battle, the blast, the dead bodies, Johnathan, and the prince’s mangled corpse came back to him like daggers to his heart. Tom tried to chime in, but King Albert raised his hand to make Tom silent. Renault stealthily pulled Tom back and gave an expression for Tom to wait. Tom obliged, though with a lot of concern sensing Desmond’s internal turmoil.

  Desmond then stammered out looking at the king directly, “He said… Excuse me… He said that… That your son was one of the best fighters he ever faced in battle… And that he was a… Good friend.”

  The king and queen were taken aback by this. Victoria’s eyes began to tear up as Albert’s face remained stoic, but his hand began to gently hold Victoria’s hand. The king murmured to himself sadly upon realization, “They were friends… They were friends.”

  The king sat back as he began to understand why the Orcs were giving tribute to his son. He began to feel pride and sadness as he thought of his eldest son. Victoria felt the same as she gently grabbed King Albert’s arm delicately wiping away a tear.

  Desmond looked down as if he said something wrong. He also felt the guilt of the battle come back and hit him over the head. Elizabeth sat up and gave Desmond a long and reassuring hug that instantly calmed Desmond down. A calming and gentle warmth cascaded over him with the utmost tenderness that he was grateful for. She looked at him and said softly, “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, madame. Thank you.”

  “It’s not your fault… I remember him having these moments too. Thank you for being with him. I can tell he meant a lot to you despite how briefly you two talked… There’s no shame in feeling like this. Thank you, Sir Rollo… For everything,” she said warmly as she gave him one more long hug and then sat back down.

  Victoria hugged Desmond as well thanking him as she held back some tears.

  Desmond was stunned by this. He quickly wiped his face as he took off his gloves and hat. King Albert looked at the faint blue spot on Desmond’s hand for a moment. He grinned only to immediately hide it looking as if he had slight twitch. Tom noticed this and stroked his beard inquisitively.

  King Albert sighed, “You have been through a lot. You are a good and moral young man with lots of humility… I’m glad you stayed by his side through the end.”

  “Thank you… Sire.”

  “Last question… What drives you to keep on fighting despite everything you’ve been through so far?”

  “Hmm,” Desmond murmured as he thought long about this. Tom and Renault tried to step in, but the King raised his hand and waited patiently. His brow hardened to a focused seriousness that was slightly off putting. A few moments passed until Desmond said firmly, “I fight in order to protect the ones I love… No matter the cost. I’ll do anything to protect them and do what’s right… Sire.”

  The King smiled at this. He stood up and everyone else stood up in unison. His face then changed to a reserved warmth that most fathers have. He then said sternly, “Thank you for telling us and for your service to this kingdom… The official ceremony will be held in the next two hours. Your knighthood will be made official along with your newly appointed Lieutenant’s rank.”

  He shook Desmond’s hand firmly once more not letting go. His one eye stared directly into Desmond’s soul.

  The King concluded, “After all of this is done… There will be a new assignment for you, if you are willing to undertake it. I will not force any new burdens on you. However, Renault, Thomas, and your previous commanders have spoken highly of your resilience, skill, leadership, and tenacity. A new squad will be formed for you. This shall be discussed in further detail tomorrow… Thank you, Sir Rollo.”

  Desmond nodded trying to wrap his head around everything that was just said to him. The king saluted Desmond and turned around. Queen Victoria hugged him and shook his hand thanking him for his duty. She whispered to him, “You’re the new hero of this kingdom. Don’t let the pressure burden you.”

  Princess Elizabeth gave him a final, long hug during which Desmond could only stare at the newborn in the handmaiden’s arms. He felt pity because he understood what it was like to not have a father figure anymore.

  She said to him calmly despite tears in her eyes, “Thank you for… Being with him… Remember, it’s not your fault for living. Every warrior, knight, or otherwise feels this. You will do great things. Interested in your future exploits to this kingdom, honestly. Thank you… I’ll probably see you around in the near future, hopefully under better circumstances.”

  The royal family, Captain Arn, and the guards left the room. Tom was surprised and Renault was busy finishing his flask pretending to be unbothered by the whole talk. He murmured to himself about how his job was going to be a long and painful one come the next day. Tom was curious and was ascertaining multiple scenarios in his mind over what the king was planning for Desmond.

  Desmond was trying to wrap his head around what the princess told him last and if it meant something that he was not keen on noticing outright. A small, but juvenile thought crept in surmising that maybe the princess fancied him. However, Desmond quickly dismissed that thought. She was only being friendly and kind. She’s a princess and he’s a commoner recently knighted, commissioned officer, and given the title of “Hero.” He was amazed by her maturity and empathy.

  Tom said happily to Desmond, “He sees something in you.”

  Desmond remained still staring confused at Tom.

  Renault gruffly chimed in with joking sarcasm, “Congrats! You just got assigned to special forces is what this old toad is trying to say.”

  “What?”

  “Desmond… Your hand,” said Renault as he was pointing at Desmond.

  The hand glowed slightly. Desmond asked, “Why me?”

  “Light Wielder chose to imbue itself in you… You are now the new ‘wielder of the light,’ or something along those lines,” Tom said as he stroked his beard. “That’s why, eh? But why indeed… Oh well! For now though, don’t worry about what the king is trying to ask of you. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon and night. We have a ceremony to get ready for. Don't get pissed drunk like that old bastard general. Trust me!”

  “Fuck you,” Renault joking retorted back.